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FRAGMENTS 

IN 

PROSE AND VERSE, 

I 

BY MISS ELIZABETH SMITH, 

n 

I.ATELY DECEASED. 
WITH SOME ACCOUNT OP 

HER LIFE AND CHARACTER, 

BY 



H. M, BOWDLER. 



BOSTON : 

PUBLISHED BY MUNROE & FRANCIS, AND SAMUEL 
H. PARKER. 



1810. 

Munroe Ijf Francis, printers. 



PREFACE. 



JL HE favour with which memoirs and letters 
are (generally received by the public, has encouraged 
the production of a great many biographical works, 
written on very different principles, and which must be 
perused with very different feelings. The delight, 
with which every friend of science and virtue reads 
the life of Sir William Jones, of Dr. Beattie, of Mr. 
Covvper, or of Mrs. Carter, can furnish no excuse for 
publications, in which some of the most vicious char- 
acters that disgrace the present times, are dragged into 
notice to disgust or to corrupt succeeding generations. 
For such an insult on the principles and the taste of 
the reader, no apology can be offered ; but when the 
character that is brought before the public is really de- 
serving of esteem, the feeling heart will view with in- 
dulgence the partial fondness of surviving friendship, 
which endeavours to save from oblivion the object of 



its affection, and to stre^v a few flowers on the humble- 
tomb of departed virtue. 

The following pages will not be found to contain a 
single sentence which can give pain to any human be- 
ing ; and though noticing in this collection was writ- 
ten with a view to publication, yet as the delicacy 
which always shrunk from observation cannot now be 
wounded by praise or blame, it is, I hope, allowable to 
remove the veil wluch an excess of modest reserve 
threw over uncommon merit. 

The Young Lady, whose talents and virtues are 
here pointed out to the reader, was little known in the 
World. Her short life was spent in retirement, and it 
affords no incidents to awaken curiosity ; but it offers 
an example, which may be useful to all her sex, and 
particularly to the younger part of it ; and I am en- 
couraged to hope, that her writings naay not be unin- 
teresting to readers of a very different description.* 
I have only noticed such circumstances in her " short 
and simple annals," as seemed necessary to explain 
her letters, and to shew the progress of her improve- 
ment in different branches of science. The use 
which she made of learning, and the effect which it 
produced on her conduct in life, may be collected. 

* See Letter XII. from the Rev. Dr. Ranpolph to Mrs. 
Smith, in the Appendix. 



[ V ] 

from many parts of the following work, which will 
prove that every acquisition in science only increased 
the humility of her natural character ; while exten- 
sive reading, and deep reflection, added strength to her 
conviction of those great truths of revealed religion, 
which in life and in death supported her through every 
trial, and which can alone afford consolation to the 
parents and friends who live to mourn her loss. 



1* 



ADVERTISEMENT. 



Xn compliance with what appears to be the 
general wish, the names of the persons mentioned in 
the Fragments are inserted in this edition ; and witli 
a grateful sense of the indulgence with which this little 
work has been received by the public, I have ventured 
to replace several passages in Miss Smith's letters, 
which have hitherto been omitted. Some letters with 
which I have lately been favoured by the lady to whom 
they are addressed, will probably be considered as a 
valuable addition to this collection ; and I flatter 
myself that anecdotes which were thought too trifling 
for publication when the name of the author was con- 
cealed, may now appear interesting, as contributing to 
throw light on a character which must be esteemed in 
proportion as it is known. To the younger part of 
my own sex, who admire the talents of my lamented 
friend, and wish to follow her steps in the paths of sci- 
ence, I beg leave to point out the following observa- 
tions, extracted from a late excellent publication. 



[ viii ] 

" Against learning, against talents of any kind, no- 
thing can steady the head, unless you fortify the heart 
with real Christianity. In raising the moral edifice, 
we must sink deep in proportion as we build high. 
We must widen the foundation, if we extend the su- 
perstructure. Religion alone can counteract the as- 
pirings of genius, can regulate the pride of talents. 
And let such women as are disposed to be vain of their 
comparatively petty attainments, look up with admira- 
tion to those contemporary shining examples, the ven- 
erable Elizabeth Carter, and the blooming Eliz- 
abeth Smith. I knew them both, and to know was 
to revere them. In them let our young ladies contem- 
plate profound and various learning, chastised by true 
christian humility. In them let them venerate acquire- 
ments which would have been distinguished in an Uni- 
versity, meekly softened, and beautifully shaded, by 
the gentle exertion of every domestic virtue, the un- 
affected exercise of every feminine employment." 

Calebs in search of a Wife. 



MISS SMITH'S LIFE, &c. 



Miss Elizabeth smith was born at 

Burnhall, near Durham, (the beautiful residence of her 
paternal ancestors,) in Dec. 1776. Some particulars 
relating to the early part of her life may be learnt from 
a letter written soon after her death by her afflicted 
mother to the Rev. Dr. Randolph, in consequence of 
his request that she would inform him of such circum- 
stances with regard to the gradual progress of her 
daughter's mind, as had not come under his own ob- 
servation.* I will only mention here a few particulars} 
■which seem necessary to explain her writings. 

When I first saw Miss Smith, in the summer of 
the year 1789, she was only in her thirteenth year, and 

* See Appendix. Letter I. 



10 MISS smith's life. 

her extreme timidity made it difficult to draw her int« 
conversation ; but even then I saw many proofs of ve- 
ry uncommon talent. We were frequently together 
during the three following years, either at Piercefield, 
where Mr. and Mrs. Smith then resided, or at Bath, 
where Miss Smith and her sisters were often with us. 
At that time Elizabeth astonished us by the facility 
with which she acquired information on every subject. 
She excelled in every thing that she attempted. Mu- 
sic, Dancing, Drawing, and Perspective were then her 
chief pursuits, and she succeeded in all ; but even at 
that early age her greatest pleasure seemed to be read- 
ing, which she would pursue with unwearied attention, 
during so many hours, that 1 often endeavoured to draw 
her away from her books, as I feared that such close 
application might injure her health. She was then 
well acquainted with the French and Italian languages, 
and had made considerable progress in the study of 
Geometry, and some other branches of the mathemat- 
ics. At every period of her life she was extremely 
fond of poetry. The following fragment is dated in 
June 1792. 

I. 
The Sun, just rising from his wat'ry bed. 
Shook from his golden locks the briny drops ; 
The Earth her many-colour'd mantle spread. 
And caught the crystal on her flow'rets' tops ; 
While nature smil'd, to see her rising crops 
With brighter beauty glow, and richer hues ; 
As novvr the night her sable chariot stops. 
Each drooping flow'r, refresh'd with morning dewSj 
Lifts its gay head, and all around its fragrance strews': 



MISS smith's life. 11 

II. 

So fair the morn, when Emma, fairer still, 
Left the lone cottage, now her sole reti-eat ; 
And wander'd musing- o'er the neighb'ring hill. 
With downcast eyes, wbicii weeping look'd more sweet, 
Down to the vale she turn'd her trembling feet ; 
There, in the middle of a shady wood, 
O'erhung with trees, which branch to branch did meet. 
Glided a gentle stream, where, as it stood. 
Each bougti its image shew'd in the clear glassy flood. 

III. 
Here paus'd the Nymph, and on the hank reclin'd, 
'Neath a large oak fann'd by each gentle gale ; 
She swell'd the brook with tears, with sighs the wind. 
And thus her melancholy fate 'gan wail . 
And ye who read her sad and mournful tale. 
Oh ! drop one tender sympathetic tear ! 
Think that the best of human kind is frail. 
Nor knows the moment when his end is near ; 
But all sad Emma's hapless fate must fear. 

IV. 

*' How fair each form in youthful fancy's eyes, 
*' Just like the tender flow'rs of blooming May ; 
" Like them in all their beauty they ai-ise, 
" Like them they fade, and sudden die away. 
*• We mourn their loss, and wish their longer stay, 
*' But all in vain ; — no more the flow'rs return, 
•" Nor fancy's images divinely gay ! 
*' So pass'd my early youth ; then in its turn 
" Each fancied image pleas'd ; for each at times I bum . 

V. 

*' How charming then o'er hill and vale to stray, 
*' When first the sun shot forth his morning beam ; 
" Or when at eve he hid his golden ray, 
■"To climb the rocks, and catch the last faint gleam ; 



\^ MISS smith's life. 

** Or when the moon imbrued in blood did seem, 
*' To watch her rising from the distant hill, 
" Her soft light trembling on the azure stream, 
" Which gently curl'd, while all beside was still ; 
*' How would such scenes my heart with admiration fill ! 

VI. 

" But now, alas ! those peaceful days are o'er ; 
" Fled like the summer breeze that wakes the dawn, 
" Wafts spicy odours swift from shore to shore, 
" And gathers all the fragrance of the lawn ; 
*' Yet ere his noon-day crown the sun adorn, 
"'Tis past, 'tis gone ; no more the scorching plains 
*' Can shew where blew the gentle breath of morn ; 
** The brook, the cattle, and the shepherd swains, 
" All seek the shade ; — but peace for Emma none remains." 



In May, 1792, Miss Hunt accompanied me to 
Piercefield ; and it is not extraordinary that similarity 
of talents and pursuits, as well as sympathy in every 
thing that is good and amiable, should lead Elizabeth 
to attach herself strongly to her. From that time a 
correspondence began, from which I have made a fe\V 
extracts, to shew what were her studies and amuse- 
ments at fifteen years of age. 

" TO MISS HUNT. 

i'July r, 1792. 
« I am much obliged to you for all the information 
in your last letter, and I hope I have found out what 
you wanted. I have been measuring circles, and find 
that my former conjecture was right : Sec. See. I 

know not whether I have explained this properly, but 



MISS smith's life. 13 

so it appears to me. I was a little mortified to see that 
my table was not quite exact, tliough I fear it is as 
near as it can be brought ; but if tliis way of making 
equal squares and circles is right, it will make me 
amends. The line in Dante is very applicable, but 
I desire you will not begin to despair yet. I do not, 
though there are many things that I prefer to these 
Mathematics. At the head of them stands Poetry. I 
thought some parts of Tasso extremely fine. Dante I 
have not read. At present I am engaged in an argu- 
ment with my dear Miss Bowdler, concerning Os- 
sian. I support him against all other poets. You may 
easily guess who will get the better ; but I will say all 
I can for Ossian, for I really love his poems beyond all 
others. Milton must stand alone ; but surely Ossian 
is in some resficcts superior to Homer. Can you find 
any thing equal to his descriptions of nature ; h.is Ad- 
dress to the Sun in Carthon, that to the Moon in Dar- 
thula, and the last hymn ? Surely in " the joy of grief," 
and in night scenes, there is nothing equal to him. 
I would rather read the description of one of his ghosts 
than of all Homer's gods. One of my greatest reasons 
for admiring him is, that all his heroes are so good. 
There is not one of them that would be guilty of a cru- 
el action for the world, nor would they insult over the 
dead. In short one cannot help loving almost every 
person Ossian mentions. Besides there are no vulgar 
descriptions, but every word is poetry. By way of 
comparison, look at some particular description in Ho- 
mer and in Ossian ; suppose it is a moon-light ; you 
2 



14 MISS smith's life. 

"will find but one of any consequence in Homer, and 
then it is only a simile, though a very beautiful one ; 
it begins at the 687th line of the 8th book. Compare 
it with any one of the vast number you will find in 
Ossian. I think the idea of the Moon retiring to weep 
for the sisters she has lost, is finer than all the philos- 
ophy on the subject, I love your flowery meadows, 
and murmuring streams ; but I cannot help preferring 
rude mountains, roaring torrents, and rocky precipices. 
I could wander with pleasure in your sequestered 
vale, but should feel more transported by the gran- 
deur of one of Ossian's night scenes," &:c. 



« From my Library^ July 27, 1792. 

" I am really ashamed, when I look at the date of 
your kind letter, and particularly when I consider how 
good you were in writing to me so soon ; but the truth 
is, we are all in such confusion, with an old house 
about our ears, and so pushed about from one room to 
another, that I have not been able to command a quiet 
hour to write to you. However, Kitty and I are now 
settled in the Library, and here I will endeavour to 
make up for my former negligence. I wish I had you 
and Miss Bowdler to help me pull the books about, 
and then I should not wish for a better house. 

" We have not received any certain information re- 
specting the Castle ; but I am inclined to give it, what- 
ever it was, to Llewellyn ap Grylfydd,whom we have de- 



MISS smith's life. 15 

termined to kill on a piece of ground adjoining to it ; and 
Mr.WiLLiAMs,\vhois writing the history of Monmouth- 
shire, told us that Buillt, where it has been said he died, 
is somewhere near this place ; he does not know exact- 
ly where it is, but we will find it out. I am sure it is 
in our woods. If this be not true, it is at least such a 
pretty little fiction, and so harmless, that I really must 
believe it. I wish you would write a poem on his 
death, and place it in our wood. You must say that it 
is translated from an old Welsh bard, and that will set 
the matter beyond a doubt. 

" You must not expect any thing very bright from 
me to-day, for my head aches very much ; and as to 
the hand-writing, I can never write well when my heart 
is concerned. I have given you a specimen of my 
very worst to prove that you are in high favour. If 
you should ever receive a letter from me written like 
copper-plate, depend upon it I am going to quarrel 
with you. If on the contrary you cannot read my 
scrawl, be assured it is all love and gratitude, and re- 
main satisfied with that ; at least I hope so, for the on- 
ly pleasure I can hope to give you is by telling you 
that I am your sincerely affectionate." 



" August 13. 

" I am so delighted with what you say of Llewellyn, 

that I cannot rest till I write to you. Has Mrs. Graves 

shewn the manuscript to any person who miderstands 

Welsh ? She would not perhaps like to trust the orig- 



16 Aiiss smith's life. 






inal out of her own hands, but if she would have it cop- 
ied we could easily get it translated for her, and should 
consider ourselves highly obliged by a sight of it. If 
it is what Mrs. Gkaves supposes, it w ill indeed be in- 
valuable. I have a great mind to believe that our Cas- 
tle in the wood is the Castle of Buillt, for no one seems 
to know exactly where that is ; and if the prince was 
killed in our grounds, it certainly is so. I hope the 
manuscript will settle all our doubts ; at present we 
are obliged to fight hard, with every body we meet, in 
maintiiining our cause. I am charmed with the name 
of Gwillim of Gwhent, the Blue Knight : it would be 
a good one for the hero of a romance. 

" Could you see the state our house is in, you would 
not think it possible to live in it ; half the walls pull'd 
down, foundations dug, and heaps of rubbish every 
■where. I admire the date of your letter ; it would 
have suited the Mistress of Gwillim of Gwhent ; but 
you should have a better name than Mary to please 
him^ though not to please me, for while it belongs to 
you I shall ever love it." 



The Castle mentioned in these letters requires some 
explanation. Elizabeth discovered some remains 
of buildings in a wood, and thought she could trace out 
sevei'al round towers, a moat, &c. I remember our 
walking over the spot where her lively imagination 
had built a Castle, of which she drew a plan from the 
slight traces which remained. She was then unacquain- 



MISS smith's life. 17 

ted with architecture ; but I shewed her little draw- 
ing to a gentleman who perfectly understood the sub- 
ject, and he said that he believed she wss right in 
her conjecture, for the plan she had drawn was ex- 
actly what Avas usually adopted by the Romans in 
their castles. The following paper will shew the in- 
defatigable application with which Elizabeth pursu- 
ed the inquiries, which a passage in Warrington's 
History* of Wales led her to make, in regard to the 



* Account of the death of Llewellyn, from Warrington's 
History of Wales, page 509. 

" Llewellyn proceeded to the cantrew of Buillt, near the 
water of Wye. 

— — " The Prince was waiting in a small grove. On the 
enemies first assault, his Esquire came to inform him that he 
heard a great outcry at the bridge. The Prince eagerly asked 
if his people were in possession of tlie bridge ; and being told 
that they were, he calmly replied, then he would not stir from 
thence, though the whole power of England were on the other 
side of the river. This confidence, though not improperly 
placed, lasted but a moment, the grove being surrounded by 
the enemies horse. Beset on every side, and cut oft' from his 
army, Llewellyn endeavoured as secretly as he could to make 
good his retreut, and to join the troops he had stationed on the 
mountain, who, drawn up in battle array, were eagerly ex- 
pecting the return of their prince. In making this attempt, 
he was discovered and pvu-sued by Adam de Francton, who 
perceiving him to be a Welshman, and not knowing bis quali- 
ty, plunged his spear into the body of flie prince, being iinarm- 
ed and incapable of defence. The Welsh were afterwards 
defeated, and left two thousand m?n dead on the field. All 
2* 



18 MISS smith's life. 

situation of Buillt, and some other circumstancea 
mentioned by him. 

" Arthur seems to have been king of Gwhent^ 
which comprehended all Monmouthshire, part of the 
dioceses of Hereford and Worcester, and the part of 
Glocestershire between the Wye and the Severn. 
Milton mentions Buillt in Brecknockshire. Camden 
mentions Kair-Lheon as a great city, having three 
churches, one of which was honoured with the metro- 
politan see of Wales. Here the Roman Ambassadors 
received their audience at the illustrious court of the 
great King Arthur. 

" The ancient register of Landaff, amongst many 
benefactions made to that church in the times of Du- 
bricius, Telian, and Odoceus, the three first bishops of 
the see, recites at length two grants, one of the lands 
of St. Kinmare, by Arthur king of Gvvent, son of 
Mouric king of Glamorgan, who gave Moch-ros to 
Dubricius ; the other of Caerleon by another Arthur, 
king also of Gvvent, but the son of Funvail king of the 
same country. Funvail defeats the Saxons at Tyn- 
terne, and dies at Malherne, Avhich his son gives to 



thjs lime Llewellyn lay on the grovind, faint, and almost ex- 
piring. He had just life enough remaining to ask for a priest 
A wliite friar, who chanced to be present, administered to the 
dying prince the last duties of his office. The hurry of the 
action being ended, Fr<^cton came back to strip the person he 
had wounded. On viewing the body, which was still breath- 
ing, it was found, to the great joy of the English army, that it 
was the pi-ince of Wales." 



MISS smith's life. 19 

Cardiffe in the year 560. About A. D, 6G0, the arch- 
bishopric ot Caerleon was removed to St. David's. 

" Upon the river Wye is Buiilt. Whether this 
town be the ancient Bullceumj or whether that cily or 
fort were not at a place called Kareen, some miles dis- 
tant from it, may be questioned. If it be urged in 
favour of Buiilt, that it sesms still to retain its ancient 
name ; it may be answered, that Buiilt, which I inter- 
pret Ox-clift", or Oxen-hill, was the name of a small 
country here, from whence in all probability the an- 
cient BullcEum was denominated ; but that being to- 
tally desti'oyed, and this town becoming afterwards the 
most noted place of the country, it might receive its 
name from it as the former had done. But since the 
congruity of the names was the main argument that 
induced our learned author to assign this situation to 
the ancient Bulloeum Silurum, we sliall have occasion 
of hesitating, if hereafter we find the ruins of a Ro- 
man fort or city in a neighbouring county of the Si- 
lures."— Car?<?. 

The above is only a very small part of the extracts 
made by Miss Smith, from Smollet, Collier, Carte, 
Camden, and Monasiicon Ang. on this subject. 



" TO MISS HUNT. 

" Sept. 27, 1792. 
" I must trouble you with some family aifiirs, that 
you may know what becomes of us. To-morrow 



20 MISS smith's life. 

se'nnight my Mother will go to a friend in Town, not 
being able to stay here any longer. Kitty goes with 
her, and then to Mrs. Claxton, where I hope she will 
see Miss Bowdler. I remain at home with my Fath- 
er, Brother, Juliet, and the two little boys, till Christ- 
mas, when I rather think we shall all meet at Bath. 
Will not you be there too ? I live in hopes, and like 
the place much better since you were so good to me 
there. Indeed you are too good to me, for I well 
know that all the pleasure, as well as the obligation, is 
on my side ; yet, like Miss Bowdler, you would have 
me believe the contrary, but I am not so easily deceiv- 
ed. It can be only out of good-nature that either of 
you write to me, or take the trouble of reading my ■ 
scrawls. Apropos of scrawls, I hope you perceive 
great improvement. I do not mean that the copper- 
plate letter is come yet ; you probably will not mis- 
take this for such ; but in whatever vcay it may be 
written, I hope you will always be able to make out 
the affection with which I am yours sincerely. 

" P. S. I am looking at a most divine sky, which 
is the whole prospect we have from any part of the 
house. I want an Ossian to paint it. Where did you 
get those two sweet lines you sent me ? I wish you 
would send some" more by a hand I know. I have 
not room for all the kind things that are sent to you, 
Ibut your imagination can paint better than my pen." 



MISS smith's IITE. 21 



« Oct. 27, 1792. 

'• I have now the satisfaction of telling you, my deap 
Mend, that all our anxiety is over. On Tuesday we 
gained a little brother, and both my mother and he 
are perfectly well. This is, as you may imagine, a 
great relief to me, and I know your sympathising heart 
•will rejoice at it. 

" As to our circle, I fear we are no nearer to it than 
others have been before us. I found an old book the 
other day in which was a calculation, I cannot tell you 
how long? which proves that we are not perfectly ex- 
act ; and as I despair of ever being more so, I shall 
give up all thoughts of it, for I think you are tired as 
Well as myself." 



« Dec. 12, 1792. 
" Being determined to have a poem on Llewellyn's 
death, and not being able to persuade you, my dear 
friend, to commit forgery, I have been obliged to try 
nny hand at it, and I send it you because you desire me 
to continue rhyming ; though, without making use of 
any of the modesty for which you so kindly give me 
credit, I must see that I do not deserve all that you say 
on that subject. However, if it be your true opinion, 
you must be delighted at being desired to read this 
volume of nonsense ; and if it be not, I have taken the 
most effectual method to cure you of complimenting. 



22 MISS smith's life. 

*' I am going to Bath to-morrow to meet my woth- 
er, and am sitting up to-night to finish my letter to 
you. We shall be at No. 11, Circus ; where I hope, 
if I must not expect to see you, at least 1 shall heai' 
from you. 

" Can you tell on what part of the banks of the Wye 
to find Mochros and Hentlan ?* I can only find that 
Hentlan is between the rivers Wye and Irgudina, 
which last I can no where discover. Do not go far to 
look for it, as I know by experience what an undertak- 
ing it is. All those old authors copy after each other, 
and make nothing but confusion. I prefer my own 
way of making the history just as I please, without 
consulting one of them ; and upon that principle, I in- 
tend to put the places I have mentioned at or near 
Piercefield. I could tell you a great deal more about 
it, if I had time. 

" It is a great happiness that Mrs. Bowdler has 
not suffered from her journey, but I am sorry to hear 
she is now far from well. This must be a great dis- 
tress to our dear friend. I wish you would transport 
yourself to Bath, where you would find Miss Bowd- 
ler, as well as myself, rejoiced to see you ; though I 
confess it is impossible to have so much comfort in 
one's friends there as in the country. 1 am glad you 



* I have lately been informed that Hentlan is a small village, 
four or five miles on the Hereford side of Ross, Mochros is 
probably the seat of Sir George Cornwall, bart. on the 
banks of the Wye, now called Moccas. 



MISS smith's life. 2.^ 

like German so much. My Brother once began to 
teach me, but either found me too dull, or was too 
lazy to go on. — I fear we must give up our circles— 
The Lusiad I never read. It was Middleton's Life of 
Cicero that I meant. I was not tired with its length, 
because the chief of its contents were new to me. I 
have lately undertaken Smollet's History of England, 
but must leave it in the middle. 

" Pray excuse this wretched scrawl. I fear you will 
think that all my good resolutions with respect to wri- 
ting are vanished : but the truth is, I am hurried, and 
scribbling with an intolerably bad pen ; for I am un- 
willing to leave this place without thanking you for 
your letter, as there is still less time to be found at 
Bath ; but I trust you will believe me, whether I have 
time to tell you so or not, and whether I write so that 
you can read it or not, 

" Ever your sincerely affectionate Friend. 

" P. S. It is now so late, that as I am to be up at 
six, I have no mind to go to bed at all, but I believe 
Avant of fire and candle will soon drive me there." 



A supjiosed Translation fro77i a Welsh Poem, lately dug 
uji at Piercefield, in the same s/iot nuhere LLEiyELLTN 
AP GnrFFrD ivas slain, Dec. lOth, 1281. 

Round Snowdon's shaggy brows grim darkness hung. 
Save that the moon, the gather'd clouds among. 
Shot forth at times a dimly-gleaming ray. 
Then wat'ry, pale, turu'd hsr sad face away. 



•^4 MISS smith's life. 

In Merlin's cave I sate. 

And mark'd her tearful eye ; 
Which seem'd to mourn the fate 

Decreed for some on high. 

What fate's decreed by heaven, blest beam of night. 
That so disturbs thy svi'eetly -smiling light ? 
No more it shines ;— Thou turn'st thy face with scorn. 
And darkly leav'st me, wretched and forlorn. 
Down the steep the torrent roars. 

Loud the thunder rings from far. 
Billows shake the rocky shores. 
All resounds the din of war. 

But hark ! — This elemental war is drown'd 
In one more great and more terrific sound ; 
A sound high Snowdon from his base to tear, 
A sound the spirits of the dead shall fear ! 

Spirits of my sires, attend ! 

Down from your clouds, ye blest ones, bend ! 

Tell me, whence these shrieks of woe 

With cries of death confus'dly flow ? 

Great Mei-lin, thou, the chief of Prophets, hear '. 

To thy own cave 'mid stormy winds draw near ; 

Pour on my darken'd soul thy light divine. 

And give it in fair truth's bright blaze to shine. 
He comes, he c6mes, in mist array'd. 
Slow and solemn glides the shade ! 



stiss smith's life. 25 

And while he speaks, the earth stands still, 
List'ning to his mighty will. 

" Heav'n-favour'd Bard, my words attentive hear, 

" Words such as ne'er were giv'n to mortal ear ; 

" I tell the woes to-morrow's sun shall bring, — 

" Cambria shall fall, shall lose her much-lov'd king. 

" On Vaga's banks, near to where once Buillt stood, 

" O'erlooking fair Sabrina's sllvc" flood, 

♦' Pierc'd with a spear ingloriously he'll fall, 

" Whence future times that spot shall Piercefield call." 

So saying, like the meteor's blaze. 
The spirit flies ^ 
And while I gaze. 

The dim red light in darkness dies ! 

But, oh, my country ! how shall I deplore 
Thy cruel doom ? Cambria shall be no more ! 
Llewellyn too, our guardian king, shall fall, 
in him we lose our only hope, — our all '. 

Blow, ye winds ; and roar, ye waves ; 

Rend the mountains, inmost caves ; 

Let loose the spirits of the storm. 

Bid them rise in human form . 

More fierce than they, in human form appears 
That barb'rous Prince, who causes all our tears > 
A tiger's heart he bears beneath that face. 
Which seems to promise honour, goodness, grace . 



26 MISS smith's life. 

Let lightning flash, 

And thunder growl. 
Let torrents dash. 
And the black tempest o'er me scowl t 
This soul, in unison with every guest. 
Shall rage and burn till I be turn'd to dust ; 
Ne'er shall I patient brook my country's doom. 
But sighing, sorrowing, sink into the tomb. 

Daughters of Cambria, with me mourn, 

Sing the sad wee-bi-eathing strain ; 
From your fair heads the ringlets torn 

Scatter round th' ensanguined plain. 
No more in summer's even tide 

Your gentle flocks you'll lead 
To where the brook, with flowery side. 

Slow wanders through the mead ; 
But soon to conquerors rude a prey. 

You'll quit your native land. 
And drag through life your mournful way, 

A wretched, captive band ! 

Warriors, break the sounding mail. 
Cast down the lance, the helm untie ; 

Arms shall now no more avail. 
For you before the foe shall fly. 

No more, in deeds of arms renown'd. 
You'll dare the single fight ? 



MISS smith's life. SY 

Or with exulting laurels crown'd. 

Assert your country's right ; 
But to the woods and marshes driv'n, 

Ingloriously you'll sigh ; 
For ah ! to you it is not giv'n 

Amidst your friends to die ! 

To Piercefield's Cliffs I'll now a pilgrim go, 
Shed o'er my Prince belov'd the tears of woe ; 
There will I seek some deep and rocky cell. 
Amidst the thick entangled wood to dwell ; 

There indulge my plaintive theme, 

To the wan moon's icy beam ; 

While the rocks responsive ring. 

To my harp's high-sounding string ; 

Vaga stops her rolling tide, 

List'ning to her ancient pride ; 

Birds and beasts my song attend. 
And mourn with me our country's fatal end ! 



My friends spent three months in Bath, and we past 
iwany happy hours together, till Mrs. Smith and her 
family went to Piercefield on the 28th of Feb. The 
following letter was written the day before they set out 
from B»ith. 



MISS smith's life. 



" TO MISS HUNT. 

Bath, Feb. 27, 1793. 

" I am quite ashamed, my dear fiitnd, to find that 
I have been so long- in debt for your charming letter ; 
though, to speak properly, I shall always be so, for 
I cannot return one like it. I might at least have 
&aid " I thank you ;" but you know how little time is 
to be had here ; and I know, and presume upon, your 
goodness in excusing my idleness, and know too that 
I have not thought of you the less for not telling 
you so. 

" Miss BowDLER and I wish for you every day, so 
that you are in no danger of being forgotten between 
iis ; and whilst we remember you, we cannot forget 
to love you. I am much obliged to you for all the 
trouble you have taken about the places I wished to 
find, but I believe it is a fruitless search. I am per- 
suaded their situation is not known, and I intend to 
place them where I choose to have them. 

" The above was written this morning, when I did 
not expect to leave this place before Friday, but I now 
find we are to go home to-morrow ; and I must, how- 
ever unwillingly, make an end of my letter. I hope 
to have more time at Piercefield, where we are now 
all to meet, after having been scattered over the face 
of the earth for the last half year. I shall be exces- 
sively grieved, as you can imagine, to leave our dear 
friend j but otherwise I shall not regret Bath." 



MISS smith's life. 29- 

At the commencement of the war, in the year 
1793, many Banks in the West of England failed, and 
Mr. Smith's was unfortunately of that number. The 
domestic happiness to which Elizabeth looked for- 
ward when she wrote the last letter, was fatally inter- 
rupted by this event ; and I received from her the 
following letter, written only five days after she left 
Bath. The importance of the subject probably indu- 
ced me to preserve this letter, when I destroyed ma- 
ny others which I shall never cease to regret. Alas ! 
I little thought that I should live to mourn the early 
death of my amiable young friend, whose talents and 
virtues were my pride and delight, and who I hoped 
would have been an ornament and a blessing to the 
world, long after I was removed from it I^— It has 
pleased Goi> to order otherwise. 



« Piercefield, March 3, 1793. 

" We were within an hour of setting off from hence, 
and intended to have seen you, my dearest friend, to- 
morrow ; when we were prevented, and I may say it 
is the only time I have ever rejoiced at being prevent- 
ed seeing you. Last night, after my mother wrote 
to you, we were informed by a friend that there was 
an execution against my father. At ten o'clock at 
night the under-sheriff, &c. came to take possession of 
the house. It was secured, so that they could not enter ; 
but you may imagine the horror of our situation in that 
night of storms. Fortunately,thenext day being Sunday^ 

3* 



30 MISS smith's life. 

We had to watch only till twelve o'clock ; and to-day 
We were preparing to go away at eight this evening, 
when we heard that my father's attorney was come 
from London, that the money was provided, and the 
execution stopped. There is to be a meeting of 
creditors to-morrow, who are to have an exact state- 
ment of all the concerns of the Bank. My Mother 
supported herself wonderfully last night, but to-day 
she was quite exhausted, till this news revived her a 

little. Mr. and Mrs, were m dreadful anxiety 

this morning, but I hope they too are a little com- 
forted ;* in short the prospect now appears bright to 
what it did two hours ago, and we shall all, 1 hope, 
bear whatever happens with fortitude. Above all, 
my beloved friend, I intreat you not to be uneasy, for 
I trust all will be well. My only apprehension has 
been for my Mother ; and I confess it has been hard 
work to appear cheerful, when I saw her agitated to 
the greatest degree, and knew I could in no way be of 



* In the summer of the year 1791, when the Bank was in & 

very flourisliing state, Mr. , who was the neighbour and 

friend of" Mr. Smith, put his name in the firm, without ad- 
vancing any part of the capital, or receiving' any share of the 
emoluments ; but on condition tliat his son should be taken 
into the house as a clerk, and be admitted a partner on liis 
coming of age. In consequence of this circumstance, Mr. 

was involved in the misfortune which happened in the 

ye;ir 1793 ; to the regret of all who knew him, and particu- 
larly of ilie Smii h fr.n.ily, as all the letters which 1 i?e«eivqd 
from them attiiis period strongly prove. 



MISS smith's life, 5J 

the least use ; but she shewed great resolution when- 
ever it Avas necessary. My Father now writes in bet- 
ter spirits, and I am happy to see her a little more at 
ease. My Mother desires me to say a thousand kind 
things for her. The servants have behaved nobly, and 
she has had all the comfort that friends can give. If 
she had none but you, she would be rich enough ; and 
I shall wish for nothing more, while I know you are 
mine. Adieu, my dearest — " 



I went to Piercefield on the following day ; but I 
will not attempt to describe the scene to which I was 
then a witness. Afflictions so nobly supported make 
the sufferers objects of envy rather than pity ; a change 
of fortune, so sudden, and so unexpected, was a great 
trial, but it was received in a manner to command the 
respect of all who witnessed it. I had long seen and 
admired Mrs. Smith, in the situation in which she 
seemed peculiarly formed to shine : in one of the 
finest places in England, surrounded by her lovely 
children, with all the elegant comforts of aflfluencej 
and delighting her happy guests by the fascinating 
charms of her conversation. Through all the raisfer- 
tunes which marked the period of which I am now 
speaking, I can with truth say of Mrs. Smith, what 
she says of her beloved daughter, that I do not recol- 
lect a single instance of a murmur having escaped her, 
on account of the loss of fortune ; but there were oth- 
er circumstances attending this sad event, which su.cli 



32 MISS smith's life. 

a heart as hers must deeply feel ; and a letter which 
is now before me, speaks the language of all that I 

received from her at that period : " The business 

is again delayed. I aiTi averse to this prolongation of 
our misery, but it is a duty we owe to Mr. and Mrs. 
— — to do every thing which can be likely to save 
them. Oh, my friend, if this amiable family were but 
secure, I should be no longer miserable ; but as it is, 
the thought of their situation sometimes sinks me al- 
most to despair." This was an affliction, under which 
even conscious rectitude was not sufficient to support 
her ; but the loss of fortune, as it was occasioned nei- 
ther by extravagance nor vice, and dignified by such 
conduct as secured the respect and esteem of their 
friends, was supported by every individual of the fam- 
ily with truly christian fortitude and resignation. 

In a few days after I went to Piercefield, my friends 
quitted it for ever ; and the young ladies spent seven 
or eight months with us, in and near Bath. The time 
which was thus spent with my mother, was certainly 
of great advantage to my young friends ; for she was 
extremely fond of them, and nothing can be more 
just than what Mrs. Smith says of her peculiarly 
happy manner of conveying instruction. Many of 
their favourite pursuits had been interrupted. They 
had lost the sublime scenes of Piercefield, which fur- 
nished an infinite variety of subjects for the pencil. 
They drew extremely well, and Elizabeth was com- 
pletely mistress of perspective. Her musical tal- 
ents were very uncommon : she played remarkably 



MISS SMITH 3 LIFE. 3.J 

well both on the Piano-Forte and Harp, but she bad 
lost her mstruments. The library, of which she so 
well knew the value, was gone. Always averse to 
large parties, and with no taste for dissipation, she 
readily agreed to a plan of employment proposed by 
my Mother, and we entei'ed on a regular course of 
history, both ancient and modern. At other times we 
studied Shakspeare, Milton, and some other English 
poets, as well as some of the Italians. We took long 
walks, and often drew from nature. We read with 
great attention the whole of the New Testament, 
Seeker's Lectures on the Catechism, and several other 
books on the same important subjects. After my 
Mother retired to rest, we usually studied the stars, 
and read Bonycastle's Astronomy, which reminds 
me of the following circumstance. Elizabeth 
told me one evening that she did not understand what 
is said in Bonycastle, page 91, of Kepler's celebrated 
calculation, by which he discovered that the squares 
of the periods of the planets are in proportion to the 
cubes of their distances. She wanted to know how to 
make use of this rule, but I confessed my inability to 
assist her. When I came down to breakfast at nine 
the next morning, I found her with a folio sheet of pa- 
per almost covered with figures ; and I discovered 
that she rose as soon as it was light, and by means of 
Bonycastle's Arithmetic, had learnt to extract the cube- 
root, and had afterwards calculated the periods and dis- 
tances of several planets, so as clearly to shew the ac- 
curacy of Kepler's rule, and the method of employing 



34 MISS smith's life. 

it. In such pursuit s as I have inentioned, I could ac- 
company her ; but in others, she had a much better 
assistant in our mutuul friend, Miss Hunt, who^ fortu- 
nately for us, spent four months in our neighbourhood, 
and was the companion of our studies and our pleas- 
ures. She led Miss Smith to the study of the Ger- 
man language, of which she was af'erwards particular- 
ly fond. She assisted her in Botanical and other pur- 
suits, as well as indifferent branches of the Mathemat- 
ics. I do not know when Elizabeth began to learn 
Spanish, but it was at an earlier period than that of 
which I am now speaking ; when she was with us, she 
seemed to read it without' difficulty, and some hours 
every morning before breakfast were devoted to these 
studies. She acquired some knowledge of the Arabic 
and Persian languages during the following winter, 
when a very fine dictionary and grammar, in the pos- 
session of her brother, led her thoughts to Oriental 
literature. She began to study Latin and Greek in the 
year 1794, when Mr. Claxton's excellent library, and 
improving conversation, opened to her an inexhausti- 
ble fund of information. She studied Hebrew from 
my Mother's Bible, with the assistance of Parkhurst ; 
but she had no regular instruction in any lan- 
guage except French. Her love of Ossian led her to 
acquire some knowledge of the Erse language, but the 
want of books made it impossible for her to pursue 
that study ^s far as she wished. Some extracts from 
her letters will shew how she was employed during the 
following years. 



MISS smith's life. 35 

Miss Hunt went into Devonshire in July, and the 
conespondence between her and Miss Smith was 
renewed. 



« TO MISS HUNT. 

« Si. Winifred's Dale, Jug. 18, 1793. 

" I have had it in contemplation to write to you, 
my dear friend, but I am very glad to be set to work 
immediately by the receipt of your kind letter, for 
■which a thousand thanks. You were not mistaken in 
supposing it would be acceptable to me, for I am al- 
ways happy to hear from you. 

" Even if your letters had not sufficient merit to 
make them interesting to an indifferent person, I 
should love them as coming from you ; how much 
then must I value them, considered as what they are. 
Believe me, we miss you as much as you can possibly 
miss us. We never take a pleasant walk, or read 
any thing interesting, but some one says, I ivis/i Miss 
Hunt were here ; and you may be sure that no- 
body contradicts it. Besides all other reasons for this 
wish, I want to shew you every pretty passage I meet 
with in German, which I do not like half so well now 
that I have no one to enjoy it with me. I long to 
study Cicero mth you, and certainly will, if we are so 
fortunate as to live near you, in which I promise my- 
self great pleasure if we stay in England. I admire 
the German you sent me extremely. I have read none 
since you left me, except two books of Dr. Ran- 



36 EJiss smith's life. 



'^ 



dolph's : Der Golden Spiegel, which is an imitation 
of an Eastern tale, by way of making dissertations 
upon government. It is entertaining, and there is an 
account of a happy valley, that makes one long to live 
in it. The other book is VViessen's Poems*, some of 
which are very pretty. I will send you a specimen, 
if I have time. I was, as well as you, delighted with 
the Messiah. 

" You do my Tintern Abbey great honour in desir- 
ng to see it. I should have sent it by this convey- 
ance, but Miss BowDLER advised its waiting till we 
go ourselves into Devonshire. We are just going to 
church, and in the fear of not having more time, let 
me assure you of the sincere affection with which I 
am ever yours. 

" Pray tell me whether the puzzle you sent is to be 
made out in Spanish or English ; though you had bet- 
ter tell me the meaning of it at once, for I never can 
find out any thing of the kind. Once more adieu. I 
will send a longer and I hope a better letter soon, and 
the German Poem also." 



" October 1 5. 
' " I will not tell you how sorry I was for your illness, 
nor how anxivously I wished for your recovery, because 
I trust you know me well enough to believe that I 
cannot be indifferent to any thing that so nearly con- 
cerns you. Indeed I have been, and still am, very 

* liVrische Gedlchte. S vol. 



Jttiss smith's life. 37 

anxious for better accounts, which I hope we may 
now daily expect, particularly after Miss Burges's 
return. For your sake I am glad she is going, but for 
my own I cannot help exceedingly regretting it ; as I 
wished very much to be acquainted with her, botk 
ft'om what I have heard you say, and from the very 
little I have seen of her myself ; which gave me so 
great a desire to see more, that if I had not feared to 
be thought troublesome and impertinent, I should 
certainly have called by myself, besides the formal visit 
with the rest of our party ; but I considered that she 
could not possibly have the s.mie wish to know me that! 
had to know her, and therefore I would not intrude. 

"I have a nice collection of German books, which 
Miss BowDLER has borrowed for ine. There is the 
Iliad, which seems to me a very good translation. I 
think the sound is more regularly fine than Pope's, 
and some of the descriptions of nature are much supe- 
rior to his ; but the tender sentiments which tiie learn- 
ed say are not in the original, are not to be traced in the 
German translation. In that respect we shall all prefer 
Pope. There is the Messiah, which I am reading a 
second lime with more pleasure than the first. A ve- 
ry pretty collection of Poems by different persons ; a 
Novel ; and a book of Plays ; so you see I am well 
furnished at present. I wish I had you to enjoy them 
with me. 

" My favourite study just now is Algebra ; and I 
find by Saunderson, that if we had consulted proper 
books, we should never have spent so much time in 
4 



38 MISS SMITH S LIFE. 

measuring squares and circles ; for though by the 
means we used, (which were perfectly right,) it 
may be brought inconceivably near, it is impossible to 

prove it mathematically exact. For example. 1 

hope you will not have the head-ach when this arrives, 
or you will wish my mathematics at Bath again ; but 
when I have learnt any thing that we used to puzzle 
about together, I am never easy till you know it." 



" November J 7. 
" Send me no Latin quotations, for I understand 
them only when the translation comes with them. I 
have just finished Klopstock's Messiah, which I have 
been reading again, as I did not above half understand 
it before. There is more of it than there was in Miss 
BuRGEs's, which was, I believe, only fifteen books. 
This is in twenty-two books, and is continued to the 
Ascension, with many hymns and songs afterwards. 
He supposes at that time a day of judgment, and that 
Abandona was pardoned. Pray inform Miss Bukges 
of this, for I remember hearing her regret his fate." 



«^/in7 7, 1794. 
" I have not thought of you the less because I have 
been too idle to write. You kno\F it is an old fault of 
mine, and it will be only wasting your time and my 
own to make an apology as long as my silence. I am 
very rich in German books just now, for Dr. Ran- 



MISS smith's LIfE. 39 

DOLPH who has a great many, has given me the entre 
of his library, to take whatever I like. I have got your 
friend Kiiest, which I think delightful ; Haller's Po- 
ems ; and Zimmerman's Einsamkeit, which pleases 
me more than almost any book I ever read. How 
much am I obliged to you for teaching me German ! 
I assure you I never read a beautiful passage, without 
thinking it is to you I owe the pleasure I enjoy, and 
wishing you could enjoy it Avith me ; for after all it is 
but a selfish sort of thing to read merely to entertain 
oneself. There are some icfeas in Zimmerman upon 
a future state very like your book.* I envy you ex- 
tremely in reading Virgil. I must learn Latin some 
day or other. At present I am puzzling at Persian 
and Arabic, and I mean to begin Hebrew. I get on 
least with Spanish, for I have been able to meet with 
only one book since I read Don Quixote, which was 
the History of the Incas, by Garcillasso de la Vega. 
I was very much pleased with it, though it is very 
long, and in some parts tedious. I wish I had your 
patience to translate from one language to another, for 
I believe it is the only way of being perfect in any ; 
but I succeed so ill in writing, of any kind, that I never 
like to attempt it. I met with a thought in Haller, 
which was new to me, and pleased me much ; but, 
perhaps, if you have met with it before, it may not 
strike you as it did me. Speaking of the weakness of 
reason without revelation, he says, 

* Essay on the Happiness of the Life to Come. 



49 :^iss smith's lisk. 

" Vernunft kan, wie der mond, ein trost der dunkeln 21eiteii, 
" Uns durch die braune nacht mit halbem schimmer leiten j 
" Der warheit morgen-roht zeigt erst die wahre welt, 
" Wann Gottes sonnen-licht durch unser dammrung fallt."* 

« I forgot to thank you for all the trouble you took 
about Canada. It was very kind indeed, and there- 
fore like yourself ; but I am sorry to say it was to no 
purpose, for il is entirely given up ; much against my 
will, for I was delighted with the idea, and wished 
excessively to go, but I despair of ever seeing it 
flow." 

" Bath, Se/it. 27, 1794. 
'.' I have no sort of apology to offer for my laziness, 
snd no claim to your forgiveness, except the assurance 
that my silence proceeded from no other cause than a 
fit of the above-mentioned disease, which you know I 
am often troubled with. If you think this a sufficient 
reason for pardoning me, it is more than I do myself. 
It is strange that though we all wish for happiness, few 
chuse to comply with the conditions by which it may 
be obtained : thus I have been daily wishing for a let- 
ter from you, and yet could not persuade myself to 
write, which I well knew was the only condition on 

* " Reason, like the moon, a consolation In darkness, can 
jfiiide lis with its faint rays through the dusky night. The 
morning dawn of truth shews the real world, when the light 
of the sun breaks through our twilight." Haller on Reasoriy 
Superstition, and Infidelity. 



MISS smith's life. 41 

which 1 could expect it. Two circumstances fix me 
to this point of time. Miss Bowdler is to send a par- 
cel to-morrow, and we are going to leave Bath and its 
neighbourhood : not, I assure you, without great re- 
gret at leaving our good friends here. I cannot help 
imagining that I am parting from you amongst the rest, 
in being removed so much further from you, but I 
hope you will not give me up as an ungrateful wretch 
not worth your notice, but let me hear from you ; par- 
ticularly as I shall not hear of you, as I now do, from 
Miss Bowdler, and because I shall be inconsolable in 
London if you do not. We are so happy here, seeing 
our dear friend two or three times every day, that I 
know not how we shall bear the change. -For my 
part I promise myself no other pleasure in town but 
that of seeing some of those I love, happy. As to the 
place itself, you may suppose it is the last I should 
chuse 

" We are just returned from a walk to Prior-Park, 
with Miss Bowdler ; the last I fear that we shall take 
together for a long time. She has given me your little 
book of Astronomy.* It is a very pretty thing. 

" I have had great store of Spanish lately ; the The- 
atro Critico Universale, by Feyjoo, a very clever work 
in 14 volumes : and I am now reading /ios(-/>aste Ma- 
riana's History of Spain, of which I have only read 
half, but am determined to finish it before I go. It is 
not so interesting as some other histories, but one must 

* Lectures on Astronomy, and N.itural Philosophy. 

4* 



^2 MISS smith's life. 

know it. There are so many different states, some- 
times united, sometimes divided ; so many kings, 
sometimes all of one name ; now friends, now ene- 
mies ; so many marriages, so many battles, and so ma- 
ny treaties, that it seems to me impossible to have a 
clear idea of the work. You will perhaps think that I 
read to little purpose. 'With this you will receive 
Zimmerman. Remember, I do not insist on your ad- 
miiing the whole, nor do I promise that you will find 
Haller very poetical. — I am very much hurried, for we 
are engaged to dine at Mrs. Bowdlkr's. Leben sie 
ioohl }?ieine theure^ and believe me ever most affection- 
ately yours." 



Miss Smith removed with the family to London, in 
October 1794, and to Shirley in November, from 
whence she returned to town in February 1795. Shir- 
ley is the seat of John Claxton, esq. To this gen- 
tleman, and to his lady, who is nearly related to Mr. 
Smith, the family always acknowledge the highest ob- 
ligations.* During four months spent with these val- 
uable friends. Miss Smith began to study Latin, and 
the following letter will shew the progress she made. 
Mr. Claxton authorises me to say that he never gave 
her any regular instruction, and that his Library did 
not contain translations of any of ;the books which she 
mentions in the next letter. 



* See Mrs. Smith to Dr. Randolph. AppendiXj Lettei* 

in. 



MISS smith's life. 43 



'« TO MISS HUNT. 



" London^ Feb. 1795. 

" I believe I told you I should learn Latin before I 
saw you next, and Shirley was a very good place for it. 
I therefore began soon after I went there ; and I have 
read Cxsar's Commentaries, Livy, and some volumes 
of Cicero, amongst which I almost wish the letters to 
his friends had not been, for they shew his jvhole char- 
acter to be so much put on^ that they have let him down 
many degrees in my opinion. As to Persian, all my 
books are at Bath, so that I shall most probably forget 
the little I knew when I saw you last. I have met 
with neither German nor Spanish books ; so that if it 
were not for Latin, I should be quite in despair. I am 
very impatient to begin Virgil." 

" March 11, 1795. 

" I have just finished the second book of the Geor- 
gics, and was particularly delighted with the last eigh- 
ty-four verses. The description of the storm in the 
first book I think is very fine." 

« Shirley, July 2Q, 1795. 

" I think as you do of Emilia Galotti. Die Kauber 
I never saw. Indeed I have scarcely read any Ger- 
inan or Spanish since I left Bath. I must tell yoii 



44 MISS SMITH S LIFE. 

that I cannot help being quite reconciled to Cicero. I 
have gone through all that I can find here of his works, 
and am so fully persuaded that a man who could write 
as he does could have no ^rm? faults, that I must, with 
your leave, forgive his little ones. If you have not 
yet met with it, only read, as a sample, the first book 
of his Tusculan Disputations, ' de contemnenda morte ;' 
and I think you will agree with me, that with the addi- 
tion of Christianity to confirm his suppositions, and 
rectify a few mistakes in them, and the knowledge of 
the true state of the universe, no doctrine can be more 
perfect than his ; and that half the modern books on 
the subject might have been spared, had the writers of 
them, before they began, read this dialogue. 

" I have just finished Clarenllon's History of the Re- 
bellion, which Miss Bowdler long ago desired me to 
read. It is extremely interesting and instructive. 
Here is another of her favourites, Spenser, which I 
once gave up in despair, but which I am very glad I 
have read, for I am charmed with it, and I think some 
of the lesser poems are even superior to the Fairy 
Queen. We have read Mr. Gisborne's book* aloud 
and all the party was extremely pleased with it. 

" I have got a new Atlas of all the remarkable fixed 
stars that are visible to us, without the figures. I 
would shew it to you, if you would meet me on the 
wing of Pegasus, or any other convenient place you 
will appoint in the upper regions, for it does not seem 

* On the Duties of Man. 



MISS smith's life. 45 

probable that vve should soon see each other in these 
below." 

« Shirley.^ Oct. 5, 1795. 

" I have been longer than I intended (accordinfj to 
custom) in answering your kind letter, and now I know 
not where this will find you. I will however direct toBath, 
hojjingyour comfortable party is not yet dissolved, 
though I have little chance of finding you together, 
as the time of our transplantation ajipears very uncer- 
tain, and probably is not very near. It was very good 
of you to wish for me by the sea-side, and I know 
nothing I should have enjoyed so much as seeing it 
for the first time with you ; but I cannot help think- 
ing the companions you had were more agreeable 
than I should have been. I should like to see what 
you and your " thoughts and reflections'^ produced. 

" I am quite delighted with you for teaching our 
dear friend German, and with her for learning it. You 
know we have always set our hearts upon her reading 
it, and only half enjoyed our favourite books while she 
could not partake of our pleasure. 

"I' have not seen Gellert. Oberon I have read 
and was much pleased vvith some parts of it. It is a 
little in the stile of Ariosto. Pray tell Miss Bubges, 
(since she does me the honour to enquire,) that of 
Spenser's lesser poems I was most pleased with As- 
trophel, some of the Eclogues, particularly January 
syid June, and the Hymn in honour of Beauty, which 



46 MISS smith's life. 

is as well written as if he had studied Lavater. I 
have just finished Froissard, which, though rather te- 
dious, I found very entertaining, and in a much pleas- 
anter stile than most of the modern French writers. 
Immediately before this great undertaking, I read the 
Memoirs of Petrarch, which made a very good line 
of history, containing the whole of the fourteenth 
century. With this book I was excessively pleased. 
It is impossible not to love Petrarch, if it were only 
for crying when his father threw Cicero and Virgil 
into the fire. He was a passionate admirer of Cicero, 
and I think a strong resemblance may be traced be- 
tween their characters, though the circumstances in 
which they lived were so different. You see in both 
the same love of glory, the same patriotism, the same 
high opinion of himself, which he endeavours to con- 
ceal from others, perhaps even from himself, by a 
cloak of humility. You discover in each an equal 
warmth of friendship ; and I cannot help thinking that 
if Cicero had met with Laura, or Petrarch had been 
consul in the flourishing times of the Roman Repub- 
lic, the former would have been the poet, and the lat- 
ter the orator. I hope I have improved a littie in 
Botany this summer as well as you." 



« March 3, 1796. 

" Have you seen Mason's new volume of Poems ? 
There are some very beautiful things in it. I have 
been feasting lately on German poetry. The Graff 



MISS smith's life. Alt 

von Stolberg ; Hnlty ; Matthison ; and a translation 
of Young. I have been much pleased with Zimmer- 
man's Nationalstoltz. 

" My ears are stunned, and my patience exhausted, 
by the ridiculous and contradictory reports that are in- 
cessantly vociferated on all sides of rhe. No one can 
speak or write of any thing but the French. If they 
have not murdered or enslaved our persons, tliey have 
at least taken complete possession of our minds, and 
banished every idea of which they are not the object. 
As you probably hear as much, and are as tired of 
them as myself, I will only assure you, that they have 
not driven from my brain the idea of you, nor from my 
heart the tender affection with which I am, 8cc." 



On the 22d of May 1796, Mrs. and Miss Smith 
set out for Ireland, where they staid only three or four 
months. Tne following letter was written the day 
before Elizabeth left Bath. The dejection expressed 
in it was occasioned by sorrows of a very different 
description from the loss of fortune. 

« Bath, Mat) 2 1. 

»' My lazy fit has lasted so long this time, that I 
dare not venture to malce any apology for it, and 
scarcely should I dare to write again, but that I cannot 
resolve to quit this island without once more assuring 
my dear friend, that my esteem and affection are not 



48 MISS smith's life'. 

in the least abated by absence, and that I love her ex- 
actly as much as if I had told her so an hundred times 
over. 

" My mother and I set off to-mon-ow morning for 
Ireland. Lady Eleanor Butlek and Miss Ponsonby 
have sent us a most obliging invitation to their house, 
and I hope we shall pass a day and a night there Do 
you not envy us this visit ? If we could carry you and 
our beloved friend with us, it would be more than 
earthly happiness. On the whole, I am extremely 
pleased with the idea of our expedition ; for besides «j 
my natural love of rambling, and of seeing and knowing 
every thing that is worth the trouble, I am weary of 
the world. To quit it is not in my power ; but in 
leaving England, I shall leave the only, world with 
which I am acquainted, the scene of all our miseries. 
You never before heard me complain of miseries. I 
never before had any to complain of. Against this 
negative pleasure in quitting this country, is to be set 
the positive pain of leaving some very dear friends ; 
but I seldom see you and Miss Bowdler, and I shall 
slill have the consolation of loving you. I shall leave 
my Kitty with great regret, but we must learn to 
bear it. We are happy in the thoughts of seeing my 
Father, who has been very uncomfortably situated dur- 
ing the last year. We talk of returning in the au- 
tumn, and I am glad it is talked of, because it makes 
my mother quit England with less reluctance than she 
otherwise would ; but I strongly suspect that we shall 
either take up our abode in Ireland, or go abroad 



IrtISS SMITH S LIFE. 49 

wherever the regiment may happen to be ordered ; 
' but this is written in the book of fate, and no human 
eye can read it.' I am grieved at going from Bath 
just before you come. I have not seen you these two 
years, and I may be drowned, I may never return, I 
may never see you again till ' the life to come.' By 
the by, have you read Lavater's Geheime Tagebuck^k^c? 
There is in it a quotation from a sermon by his friend 
Pfenningen, so exactly like your little book, that I want- 
ed you to read it with me. I can give you no account 
of my studies, but that I have read nothing in the last 
half year. 

" My Mother and I are going this morning to break- 
fast with and take leave of our dear Miss Bowdler, 
though I believe I shall not be so satisfied, but make a 
pvish to see her again after dinner, which is the only 
time besides breakfast that she has to spare from her 
constant attendance on poor Mrs. Bowdler. I wish 
you were here to comfort her ; she wants it sadly. 
As you probably will be with her great part of the 
time that we are absent, I hope constantly to hear of 
her from you. Do not forget me ; and be assured 
whatever changes may happen to me, of fortune, or 
habitation, my sincere affection for my Mary will nev- 
er change. AdieUj perhaps for ever I" 



The visit in LangoUen Vale more than answered 
he expectation of my friends, and the very obliging 

5 



50 MISS smith's life. 

manner in which they were received, was highly grat- 
ifying to me. I had a letter from Miss Smith on this 
subject, which I particularly regret ; but it was de- 
stroyed with many others. Mrs. and Miss Smith 
were much pleased with what they saw of Ireland, and 
very grateful for many civilities received there ; but I 
have nothing written at that time to Miss Hunt, ex- 
cept the following short letter. 



« SHgo, Jugust 8, 1796. 

" I have not time to say half what I think and feel 
in answer to your last letter, my dearest Mary ; I will 
call you so since you like it, though I had forgot that 
I was ever so impertinent to do it before. I frequent- 
ly wish for you and our beloved friend, to make you 
wander through a valley, between mountains tossed to- 
gether in all the wild and rugged forms imaginable, 
with an hundred cascades dashing from their summits, 
and forming a beautiful lake at the bottom ; to shew 
you the fine effects of light and shade on the hills when 
the sun shines ; and when he does not, the clouds hid- 
ing their heads, descending half way down them, and 
sometimes entirely blotting them out of the landscape ; 
then breaking away by degrees, and ascending like 
smoke. I never before knew so well what Ossian 
meant by the thick mist of the valley, and the ragged 
skirts of a cloud as it sails slowly over the dark heath. 
I often think I see the grey cloud of which his father's 
robe is made. I hope we may meet in the winter ; 



MISS smith's life. 51 

but sometimes I almost despair. However, I shall not 
be less in one place than another, your tenderly affec- 
tionate friend." 



Mrs. and Miss Smith spent four months in Ireland, 
and returned to Bath in October. At Kingston-Lodge, 
the seat of the late venerable Earl of Kingston,* they 
passed some weeks ; and the happiness they enjoyed 
there was always mentioned by them with the warmest 
gratitude. From thence they removed with Captain 
Smith to the Barracks at Sligo, and Elizabeth wrote 
the following letter to Lady Isabella King, in whose 
friendship and correspondence she thought herself 
particularly happy ; and who has favoured me with 
some extracts from her letters, which I hope will not 
be uninteresting to those who value the unstudied ef- 
fusions of a grateful and affectionate heart. 



TO THE LADY ISABELLA KING. 

" Sligo, 1796. 
" A thousand thanks to my dearest Lady Isabella 
for her charming letter. It is the first comfort I have 
met with since we parted, for every thing has conspir- 
ed to remind us of what we were otherwise not at all 
disposed to forget,— the happiness we enjoyed at 
Kingston-Lodge. 

* Edward, father to the late, and grandfather to the present 
EarJ, 



j2 miss smith's life. 

" We were most completely wet long before we 
reached Sligo, and when we did arrive, we had every 
thing to unpack, beds to contrive, &c. &c. All our fa- 
tigues however are at length over, and I hope we shall 
now go on tolerably well. We have a pretty view of 
a bay of the sea, (which looks like a lake,) and some 
fine mountains. How much more beautiful should I 
think this scene, if you were looking at it with me 1 

" We are all very well, and much amused with the 
little misfortunes that happen to us. You ask what we 
Jiave been doing, saying, and thinking. For the first, 
We have been trying to set ourselves in order, and re- 
ceiving company. As to our words and thoughts, ex- 
cept the necessary consultations on what was to be 
done next, I believe they have been chiefly directed 
towards Kingston-Lodge. How I like Sligo I cannot 
yet tell, for the day we arrived I was so glad to be in it, 
that I did not observe how it looked ; and yesterday it 
rained again, and we did not go out. Thus I have had 
no opportunity of looking for German books, nor do I 
much expect to find any. Most heartily do I hope 
that our garden plan may be realized, because your 
Ladyship is one of the very few people I think worthy 
to understand German. This is a high compliment, 
for in order to feel and relish it thoroughly, it is neces- 
sary to possess every quality that I most admire. 

" Lord Kingston must return sooner than Septem- 
ber, or we must :;tay longer, for should we be gone 
before you come to Mr. Cooper's, I shall be misera- 
ble. I have only time to add, and that but imperfect- 



MISS smith's life. 53 

ly, the sincere affection and gratitude Avith which I am 
ever yours, Sec." 



In one of Mrs. Smith's letters to the Editor, the 
removal to Sligo is thus described :— 



" We had spent three happy weeks at the hospitable 
mansion of Lord Kingston, from whence we set off 
on horseback for our quarters, which were about twen- 
ty miles distant. During the last ten miles of the jour- 
ney it rained most heavily and without ceasing. We 
arrived at the Barracks dripping wet ; our baggage 
was not come, and owing to the negligence of the 
Quarter-master, there was not even a bed to rest on. 
The whole furniture of our apartments consisted of a 
piece of a cart-wheel for a fender ; a bit of iion, prob- 
ably from the same vehicle, for a poker ; a dirty deal 
table, and three wooden-bottomed chairs. It was the 
first time we had joined the regiment, and I was stand- 
ing by the fire, meditating on our forlorn state, and 
perhaps dwelling too much on the comforts I had lost, 
when I was roused from my reverie by Elizabeth's 
exclaiming, " O what a blessing !" ' Blessing !' I 
replied, ' there seems none left.' " Indeed there is, 
" my dear mother ; for see, here is a little cupboard." 
I dried my tears, and endeavoured to learn fortitude 
from my daughter.'* 



54 MISS SMITH S LITE. 

Mrs. Smith has often mentioned to her friends the 
ingenuity, as well as good-humour, with which Eliz- 
abeth contrived to make a currant tart in this uncom- 
fortable dwelling, when it appeared quite impractica- 
ble. I mention these trifling circumstances, because 
I wish to convince my young readers that learning is 
not incompatible with the most minute attention to all 
the peculiar duties, as well as to all the elegant accom- 
plishments, which belong to the female character. 
For the same reason I think it right to notice Miss 
Smith's particular attention to ceconomy, when cir- 
cumstances made it proper. No young lady dressed 
with more elegant simplicity, but none could do this 
at less expense. She made a gown or a cap, or any 
other article of dress, with as much skill as she dis- 
played in explaining a problem in Euclid, or a difficult 
passage in Hebrew ; and nothing which she thought 
it right to do, was ever neglected. The modesty and 
simplicity of her character is so justly described in a 
letter written* since her death by her friend Thomas 
Wilkinson to Mrs. Smiih, that I hope I may be per- 
mitted to make a few extracts from it : — 



" Her acquirements must be allowed to have been 
wonderful ; but to me the most astonishing thing is 
how she has done so much, for she never appeared to 
do any thing, and every one who saw her would have 

* See Appendix. Letter IX. 



MISS smith's life. 55 

been more apt to have r.upposed her indolent than in- 
dustrious ; but though her progress of improveTnent 
was silent as light, yet it was certain ss time. In her 
knowledge she was as modest as in every thing else ; 
never presuming to be ivise on a discovery or a judicious 
observation. Always simple, sweet, and innocent in 
her demeanour, she never gave herself an air of con- 
sequence for genius, learning, or beauty, though she 
possessed them all. In company she kept back so 
much, that some would be in danger of forgetting phe 
Was there ; but when called on to speak, she did it so 
much to the purpose, so pleasingly, and so unaffect- 
edly, that one wished no one to speak but herself. 
Some might have supposed her of an absent cast, but 
nothing was further from her character, for her replies 
were the readiest I ever knew when information was 
wanted. Her countenance was serious, but she not un- 
frequently smiled, and it was the smile of complacency 
and peace." 



After a second visit at Kingston-lodge, the ladies 
removed with Captain -Smith to Lisburn, from whence 
the next letter was written to Lady Isabella King. 



a Lisbum, Sept. 18, 1796. 

" My dearest Lady Isabella will, I hope, believe 
that I should not so long have delayed fulfilling my 
promise of writing to her, had not many impediments 



56 MISS smith's life. 



jjj^jH 



come in the way. First, on our arrival here we recol- 
lected that no letter could reach Kingston-Lodge till 
Thursday ; it was therefore useless to write on Satur- 
day, and since that time we have been in constant ex- 
pectation of being ordered to march : and as my chief 
object in writing to you is a selfish one,— to have the 
happiness of hearing from you,— I waited till I could 
tell where to direct. I believe, however, it is now set- 
tled that we remain here till we go to England ; and 
when that will be I know not. Now I have got over 
this tiresome preface, which I hate of all things, let me 
amuse myself with telling you how sincerely I regret 
Kingston-Lodge, audits kind inhabitants, and above all 
our little walks in the shrubbery, which I have been 
wishing for every day since. By the by I have a little 
quarrel with a certain lady for a speech she made me 
the last moment I saw her, importing that I should for- 
get her as soon as I was gone, or some such vile idea. 
I could not quarrel at the moment, but wrote some 
verses to assure her it was impossible ; they were 
however too sleepy to send, and I must content my- 
self with assuring her in plain prose, that every day, 
by making me feel the want of her sweet society, en- 
dears her to me if possible siill more. 

" I forgot to tell you that we met with no accident 
on our journey, except laming the horses, and tiring 
them so that we were obliged to leave them at Lurgan, 
ten miles fs'om hence, to be led home on Saturday . 



3nSS SMITH S LIFE. 51 

Poor Brunette,* considering she was not quite well 
when she set out, performed surprisini2;ly, and has now, 
with a few days' rest, quite recovered from her fatigues. 
The riders were not at all tired, but much amused with 
their journey. The country on this side of Belturbet 
is very pretty ; about Monaghan beautiful, composed 
entirely of green hills, rivers, lakes, and fine woods. 
On this side of Armagh, though still richly cultivated, 
it grows gradually too flat to please me, till it spreads 
about this place nearly into a plain, which, though it 
is very rich, and in general much admired, cannot 
compensate to me for the mountains about Sligo. 

" We saw on a hill, between Carrick and Ballyna- 
more, an immense figure cut in stone, which the coun- 
try people told us was Fiuhn Mac Coul, who you know 
is Macpherson's Fingal. If you can learn any partic- 
ulars respecting it, I shall be much obliged to you. 
The only curiosity we saw besides was one of the old 
round towers that puzzle the Antiquarians so rwuch at 
Clounish. 

" I must tell you a piece of good-fortune that befel 
me by the way. The Inn where we breakfasted at 
Armagh was opposite to a Bookseller's shop, and my 
mother proposed going to see if there were any Irish 
books. We went and found the first number of an 
Irish Magazine now publishing at Belfast, in which 
was a grammar, and some poems v;ith translations. 

* A horse which Lad^EjufiANOR King had given to Miss 
Smith. 



o8 MISS SMITH S LIFE. 

You will suppose I have been very busy ever since. 
If you have any thoughts of learning the language, I 
would advise you to get this book. Pray remember 
me most kindly, gratefully, and respectfully, to Lady 
Eleanor ; give my love to Miss King, and to my 
best friend Lady Isabella say — nothing ;— .she knows, 
I hope, that I love her entirely. 

" Our little plan of riding with my Father through 
Scotland is impracticable, as no officer can leave his 
regiment at present. This place is head-quarters, 
which I am glad of, because we have the band, which 
is a very good one. 

" I hope you observe what a curious mistake I 
have made in beginning on the wrong side of the pa- 
per. — As this is a Hebrew letter, or rather the letter of 
a fool, please to begin at the end." 



" Bath, Jan. 13, 1797. 

'' Fully did I intend, on receiving your Ladyship's 
long-wished-for letter, to obey your orders, and answer 
it directly. At length, after nearly a month has 
elapsed, here I am set down to begin, but when I shall 
finish is more than I know, for I have a strange an- 
tipathy in writing to any one I love when any human 
creature is present : it is as bad as talking in mixed 
company. I feel a sort of restraint which extends even 
to my ideas, and I cannot think freely. I carry this 
so far, that I do not like to read a book wliich inter- 
ests me when any one is present, and always make 



MISS smith's Life. 59 

to myself a kind of solitude by hiding my face with 
it when I come to a passage which particularly pleas- 
es me. I believe this is a sort of pride which cannot 
bear to expose its feelings to observation. Whatever 
may be the cause, so it is ; and I have been waiting 
in hop-iS of being left alone to write to my dearest La- 
dy Isabella. It has never happened till to-day ; for 
there are so many of us that we have no separate 
rooms, but all sit constantly together. Do not con- 
sider this as an apology for not writing sooner ; 
apologies are the first things we should banish from 
our new correspondence, as being weeds which are 
apt to over-run the whole letter, to the destruction of 
every plant of common sense which possibly might 
otherwise fill their place. Your Ladyship's first rule 
will stand instead of all apologies. Secondly, for the 
liberty of talking nonsense ; I must grant what I beg 
to be allowed for myself : moreover, I should hate a 
letter which contained nothing but good sense ; it 
would be as dull as those assemblies where people 
meet to talk sense, and no one dares utter a syllable. 
Thirdly, you shall change your subject, break off and 
begin again, and play as many variations as you please. 
As to not willing to me for six months, I do not feel 
myself sufficiently disinterested to grant that with my 
own free will ; though it is not in my power to help 
myself, if you will not write to me, and I certainly nev- 
er shall harbour any suspicion or distrust, for there is 
nothing to which I have such a decided aversion. 
Were I to say that I should not find pleasure in read- 



60 MISS smith's life. 

ing your Ladyship's letters, in whatever number of 
scraps and humours they were written, I hope you 
would not believe me. As for the hand-writing, it is 
a maxim of mine, that whoever writes me a copper- 
plate letter, does not love me, and vice verf<d. I never 
can take pains, (though at best my hand is very bad,) 
except when I am writing a stiff letter to some body I 
care not a button about. Finally, I never read any 
thing out of a letter, except it be some article of news, 
or some common-place observation, because I think 
that what is most interesting to the person to whom 
the letter is addressed, is exactly what the rest of the 
world will hear with indifference, perhaps with ridicule, 
as not understanding or entering into the sentiments 
of the writer. 

" My mother has read Camilla. I have not, being 
at present quite taken up with some delightful German 
books. Indeed I never shall be satisfied till you learn 
German. There is one book which you may and 
must read directly^ " The Italian." I will say nothing 
of its contents. 

" We heard from my Father about a week ago. 
He was at Newtown-Ards, and very well. Amidst all 
our fears on the subject of the French invasion, 
(though I cannot say mine were ever very great,) we 
could not help encouraging some faint hope that Bath 
might be thought a safer place than Ireland for the 
Kingston family ; and if our good neighbours the 
Messieurs had done no more harm, we would have 
made them very low curtsies, and thanked them with 



MISS smith's life. Si 

all ouv hearts. Our Millenium Hall scheme appears 
so distant, that I fear we shall be grown cross dis- 
agreeable old maids before we can put it in execution. 

" I^eg you will never be at any trouble to collect 
news for me. There is nothing I care so little about, 
unless it immediately concerns the Kingston family, 
particularly one member of it, and then the smallest 
circumstance can never appear trifling to me. I do 
not by any means feel that I shall never see you 
again ; on the contrary, I am persuaded that we shall 
meet in some corner or other of the earth. — Have 
the goodness to present my Mother's and my kindest 
respects to Lady Eleanor and Lord Kingston, and 
our love to Miss King. There is not room to tell 
you what to say to my dearest Lady Isabella. 

<' If you see the Elphin family,* pray remember us 
most kindly to tliem. We are not much gayer here 
than you are at Kingston -Lodge, for we go out very 
little ; but that I do not regret, though I should en- 
joy it perhaps as much as other people, if I was in 
the habit of it." &c. 



The remainder of this correspondence is of later 
date, and will appear in its proper place. 

When Mrs. and Miss Smith returned to Bath in 
October 1796, they found my Mother extremely ill, 
a;id from them she received every comfort which 
friendship could bestow. The kind attention which 

* Dr. Law, Bishop of Elphin. 



62 MISS smith's life. 

she always experienced from Mrs. Smith made a very 
deep impression on her heart ; and it is impossible I 
should ever forget that to her my beloved parent was 
indebted, during the last ten years of her life, for some 
of the happiest hours she enjoyed. The same unwea- 
ried kindness cheered the last days of her life, and sup- 
ported me in one of the most trying scenes of mine. 
My MotheV died on the 10th of May 1797. Miss 
Smith was then staying with us, and read three ser- 
mons to her on the preceding evening, when she ap- 
peared uncommonly well. — Perhaps this awful scene 
might give a peculiarly serious turn to a mind which 
was always disposed to deep reflection, and fervent pi- 
ety. The following reflections are taken from her lit- 
tle pocket-books, and were written in 1796 and 1797. 

" I find it a very good method to write down my 
thoughts as they occur, for an idea often strikes me, 
which, turning to something else, I forget immediate- 
ly ; but considering it as much as it is necessary to 
write it down, makes me more acquainted with the 
subject, and makes my thoughts more my onvn. For 
want of some such plan, I see people dreaming away 
their lives in inactivity of mind, without forming any 
opinions of their own, till from paying no attention to 
their thoughts, they come not to think at all. 

" When we contemplate the ways of Providence, 
we are like a person unskilled in painting, who looks 



MISS smith's life. 63 

at a half-finished picture ; he is immediately struck 
with the want of harmony in the colouring, and the 
improper disposition of light and shade, and thinks he 
shows his wisdom by finding faults in the whole plan, 
and in the execution of evei'y part ; but let him wait 
till it is finished, and he will then be forced to acknowl- 
edge that every stroke has contributed to the beauty of 
the whole, and that what he considered as defects, now 
appear the chief beauties of the piece. Perhaps there 
is none but an artist equal to the painter of the picture, 
who can, before it is finished, imagine what effect will 
be produced : unless then we can suppose the crea- 
ture to be equal to the Creator, and the picture to rise 
up against the painter, let us not presume to call in 
question the ordinances of GoD, but wait till his plans 
are accomplished, when we shall be convinced that 
" whatever is, is right," 



"I 

How 



s the capacity of man finite ? Is God infinite ? 
can the finite comprehend the infinite ?" 



" The pity of the world appears to be very much 
misplaced ; it is entirely withdrawh from those who 
have fallen into misfortune through their own fault, 
and most liberally bestowed on the virtuous unfortu- 
nate. But the virtuous have no need of pity : they 
never can be miserable, whatever may befal them ; 
ajid it is their place to look down with pity on the 



64 MISS smith's life. 

wicked) whether glorying in the smiles of fortune, e^v 
despairing at her frowns." 



<' I i>o not see that the failure of intellect which we 
sometimes observe iji old people, and in young ones 
in some cases of sickness, is any argument against the 
■immortality of the soul. We are ignorant how the 
soul will act after its separation from the body ; but 
we know that during their union, neither can do any 
thing without the assistance of the other ; therefore, 
when the faculties decay, we are not to suppose that 
the soul is injured, but that the organs, whatever they 
are, by which it communicates with the body, and by 
which ideas are presented to it, have sustained some 
damage. As, if a man become blind, we do not say 
that his soul is changed, but that the organ by which 
images were presented to it, is injured ; and accor- 
dingly, if his eyes are cured, the soul is just as able to 
distinguish objects as ever. In the same manner, the 
sick person, whose nerves (or whatever it is on which 
the soul immediately acts) have recevered their tone, 
is able to think, and speak, and understand, as form- 
erly. The workman is not in fault, but some part of 
liis machine is out of order." 



" The most difficult vice to conquer, is pride ; I 
mean a high idea of our own merits, and a spirit of 
rebellion. Tliis came in Eve's way ; sue fell, and per- 



MISS smith's life. 6% 

haps there is not one of her posterity who would not 
have done the same." 



" Rea^son is the most unreasonable of all things, for 
witnout common sense to guide it, it never knows 
where to stop." 



" The most inconsistent thing in the world is to ex- 
pect consistency of man, at the same time that we 
know him to be entirely dependent on circumstances. 
What we have most earnestly wished, is often proved 
by events to have been the worst thing that could hap- 
pen to us. We do, and must, change our opinions 
according to every circumstance that occurs, unless 
we could know all things, and take in the present, past, 
and future, at a glance." 



" It is surprising how the opinions of the same 
person change in the course of a few years. It is 
therefore improving, as well as amusing, to write 
down the thoughts that occur, in order to look them 
over after some time, and see in what respects I may 
have advanced, in what receded, and rectify errors." 



" I HAVE no idea of heaping up money, or of any 
pleasure of saying so much is mine ; it is not mine till 
I use it. I shall therefore, whenever I have any, lay tt 

6* 



6i MISS smith's life, 

out as I find proper occasions ; trusting to that Provi- 
clence which has never suffered me to want, even when 
I had no probable means of subsisting, to supply me 
when I stand in need. Never refuse to give to-day, 
lest you should want to-morrow." 



" How light are all the troubles of this world to those 
who value every thing it contains according to its real 
AVorth ! They may appear insensible to those who 
reckon by a different standard, but they can bear even 
this imputation, for they know the value of human ap- 
phuse. How happy should vve be, if we could always 
^eel as we sometimes think .'" 



" I CANNOT bear to hear people say, ' such a person 
did me a favour, but I have returned it, and am no long- 
er obliged to him.' If any one does rne a favour, with- 
out the least expectation or wish of a reward, though it 
should afterwards be in my power to do ten times more 
for that person, I can never repay the original obliga- 
tion, from which its nature does not admit of any rec- 
ompense, but remains for ever in its full force." 



" One great cause of the republican spirit which 
prevails at present, appears to have been a false prin- 
ciple in education, that it is necessary to convince a 
child by reason before you expect him to obey. Now 
reason, being the faculty of comparing ideas already 



Wm 



MISS smith's life. 67 

presented to the mind, cannot exist in a child, to whom 
few or no ideas have been presented ; and no one was 
ever convinced by the reasoning of another. It is 
therefore impossible to convince him ; and if he be 
suffered to do as he please till he be capable of reason- 
ing, it is a great chance if his understanding be not so 
warped by the practice of evil, that he mistake it for 
good ; and it is most probable that he may have con- 
tracted such a habit of disobedience, as not willingly to 
submit to the laws of his country, or even to those of 
his God." 



" The progress of vmderstanding is like learning to 
play on a musical instrument. Education does not 
create it, any more than a music-master ci'eates fingers. 
It only gives us the power of using them rightly. 
Give an instrument to a peson who has never heard 
music, and who is ignorant of the principles of it, he 
■will probably produce some sound, but it will be dis- 
cordant and without meaning. This I should suppose 
the state of a man who has always lived on a desolate 
island by himself He will have found the use of his 
bodily organs, but will scarcely have discovered his 
mental faculties. On the contrary, a person who has 
been taught the principles of music, makes himsetf 
perfectly acquainted with them by practice, till from 
playing the music of others, he at length composes 
new on the same principles ; as he learns to use his 
understanding first by reading and hearing the opinioils 



68 MISS smith's life. 

of others, and then forms his own. Thus the soul 
and body are reciprocally as the musician and the in- 
strument." 

" I FIND nothing so effectual in abating self conceit 
as to look on people who evidently have quite as high 
an opinion of themselves in any given respect, as I 
have, and to see thai they are mistaken. It is very 
possible I may be so too." 

" It is the fashion now to consider the abilities of 
women as being on an equality with those of men. I 
do not deny that there may be many women whose 
abilities, and still more their powers of conversation, | 
are superior to those of the generality of men ; but 
there never was among women a Milton, a Newton, 
&c." 

" The more talents and good qualities we have re- 
Geived, the more humble we ought to be, because we 
have the less merit in doing right." 

" How very narrow are all the limits of the human 
understanding ! Our situation in this world is like 
that of a person gropuig about in the dark. Whatever 
path of science we turn into, we meet with no obsta- 
cles that may not easily be surmounted, we flatter 
ourselves that we have^made great discoveries, and 



MISS smith's life. 69 

think there will be no end of our progress till we per- 
fectly understand every thing ; when on a sudden we 
knock our heads against the mud walls of our habita- 
tion, and are beat back by the blow to the centre of igr 
norance from whence we set out." 



*' No event which I thought unfortunate has ever 
happened to me, but I have been convinced, at some 
lime or other, that it was not a misfortune, but a bles- 
sing. I can never then in reason complain of any 
thing that happens, because I am persuaded it is per- 
mitted for some good purpose." 



" I AM surprised, uia observing my thoxights, to find 
how very rarely they are employed in any thing worth 
thinking about, how seldom they are even common 
sense. Conscience tells me that a great part of my 
life is wasted in foolish imaginations and idle dreams. 



" We cannot have a more striking proof of the in- 
capacity of man, than the methods he takes to hide 
from himself his own ignorance. When he meets 
with any thing in nature Avhich he can neither explain 
nor understand, he invents a name, by which he impos- 
es on the world with an appearance of wisdom ; and 
sometimes even fancies himself wise, because he has 
not acknowledged his ignorance. For instance, we 
pretend to know what it is that moves the planets in 



70 MISS smith's life. 

their orbits, and we call it attraction ; though it is plain 
we are no wiser than if the word had never been used. 
We meet with a fossil of which we cannot account for 
the formation, a plant or an animal differing from any 
we have before seen, we say it is alususnatu7'<e. Some 
person is affected with a disorder we do not understand, 
it is immediately said to be nervous. If two or three 
of our acquaintance are affected in the same manner, 
it is a disorder that goes about, it is in the air ; though 
perhaps the air has no more to do with it than any of 
the other elements ; and each person, after uttering 
one of these wise sentences, sits down satisfied that he 
has completely explained his subject. 



" It is not surprising that so few, so very fevf ge- 
niuses appear in the world, if we consider how many 
circumstances are necessary to their production ; for 
it is not enough that nature has given a bold and enter- 
prising spirit, capable of the greatest undertakings, if 
the shell it inhabits is rooted to one spot, and compell- 
ed to labour for daily bread : it is not enough that she 
has created a poet, if the mind, full of ardour and en- 
thusiasm, be doomed to plod the dull round of trade. 
She has in vain bestowed the faculty of deepinvesriga- 
tion, and of tracing the hidden causes of things, on one, 
who in the constant hurry of action, finds no leisure for 
meditation ; or given to a woman a spirit of curiosity 
able to make useful discoveries in every branch of sci- 
epce, which, from a narrow prejudice, must be confine 



MISS smith's life. ^\ 



ed to the afftiirs of her neighbours. Thus I am per- 
suaded genius often exists, but lies concealed, some- 
times even from the possessor of it, for want of occa- 
sions to call it forth." 



" They are most vain, who say they have no vani- 
ty : for no one ever thought that the want of vanity he 
boasts of, proceeded from want of merit ; he rather 
thinks that he excels all mankind in having a mind su- 
perior to vanity ; and what is this opinion but the sum- 
piit of vanity ?" 



" The greatest misfortune in the world is to have 
more learning than good sense." 



" Many people find fault with those who study lan- 
guages, and say they study only Avords, and forget 
ideas ; but those who do so never will learn any num- 
ber of languages, for it is totally impossible to remem- 
ber so great a number of words as is contained in otie 
language without affixing ideas to them. The truth 
is, those who learn languages to any purpose, study 
ideas only, through the medium of words their signs. 
Unless we clearly understand the sign, we cannot 
comprehend the thing signified. Those who consider 
this matter at all, must acknowledge that there are ve- 
ry few words in the English language which have any 
meaning in English, but that they are chiefly derived 



72 MISS smith's life. 

fi'om the Saxon, French, Latin, Greek ; and those 
again from the Hebrew, and other Eastern languages. 
It follows therefore, that those only who understand 
all those languages, (perhaps many more might be 
added,) fierfectly understand English ; and those who 
are acquainted with none of them, speak the words 
they have learnt from custom, like a parrot, but with- 
out clearly understanding the ideas which are meant 
to be conveyed by them. The study of languages is 
therefore not only pleasing and profitable for the sake 
of reading the poetry, and other books which cannot be 
translated ; but it gives a much higher relish for the 
beauties of our own language, by enabling us to feel the 
force of every expression, which a common reader 
passes over without observation." 



" Those who know a little are very anxious to re- 
form every thing ; those who know more, are convin- 
ced of the impossibility of compleat reformation, and 
therefore are inclined to leave every thing as they 
found it. Those who understand French, or Latin, or 
German, derive all English words from whichever of 
those languages they happen to be acquainted with, 
and endeavour to write and pronounce them according- 
ly, and certainly our language has suffered much from 
these pretended reformers. On the contrary, if they 
were to make themselves acquainted with all the lan- 
guages above-mentioned, they would probably discover 
^hat they had been mistaken in many of their etymol- 



MISS smith's life. VS 

ogies. The English tongue is perhaps more mixed 
than any other, and its corruptions are chiefly owing 
to half-learned reformers. This reasoning is applica- 
cable to all schemes of general reformation. We had 
better not meddle with what we do not understand ; 
and if we put the question homef what is it that we da 
understand ?" 



" It appears to me probable, that in the original lan- 
guage, all the nouns, and the roots of verbs, (wliich 
were the third person singular of the preterite.) were 
monosyllables, perhaps consisting of not more than two 
letters ; and that from thence the different tenses of 
the verbs, and the derivations of the nouns, were form- 
ed bv the addition of a letter before or after. The con- 
fusion at Babel might consist in some men's being de- 
prived of the power of pronouncing certain letters." 

" From the little information I can collect by tracing- 
languages towards their source, it appears probable 
that when the inhabitants of the earth quarrelled at 
Babel, and dispersed in consequence, Ham turned, as 
is generally allowed, towards Africa, where Egypt was 
afterwards called by his name, and that of his son Mis- 
raim. Shem remained in the western parts of Asia, 
and spread from thence over Europe. This opinion is 
founded on the very strong traces of the Persian lan- 
guage vvidch yet remain in the Celtic and all European 
tongues, not excepting Greek and Latin ; though the 



74 MISS smith's life. 

modern Persian, with which I compare them, is itself 
derived from the Pehlevi, the ancient language of Per- 
sia, which probably had a much greater affinity with 
the Celtic. Noah says, in the 9th chapter of Genesis^ 
* May God extend Japhet> and may he inherit the tents 
of Shem.' In the 10th chapter it is said, that the isl- 
ands were peopled by the descendants of Japhet, From 
these circumstances I conclude that the family of Ja- 
phet went eastward from Babel, till, coming to the sea, 
some went over it to the islands within sight, which 
form the Eastern Archipelago ; and others followed 
the coast northwards, till they came to some point 
from whence they could see America. Thither some 
of them went ; Avhile others spread themselves west- 
ward, and these people I take to be the barbarians of 
the north, who afterwards overran all Europe, and who 
were the same as the wandering Tartars, their breth- 
ren, now are. Thus the prophecy is fulfilled, for Ja- 
phet is indeed extended, and at this day inhabits the 
tents of Shem all over Europe. This theory seems 
to me to derive great force from the similarity of 
manners between the wandering tribes of the north, 
the Tartars, and the Americans ; for though some na- 
tions of America, from a long residence in one place, 
have acquired a degree of civilization, yet there is al- 
ways a tradition of their having been in a wild state. 
It is reasonable to suppose, the descendants of Japhet, 
in constantly travelling about, would lose all the know- 
ledge they had gained from Noah, except such as was 
absolutely necessary for their subsistence. We find 



MISS smith's life. 75 

the descendants of Shem alone, who remained nearly- 
stationary, and the Egyptians and Chinese who settled 
soon after they left Babel, had leisure to cultivate the 
sciences before the elements of them were lost. From 
my ignorance of the Chinese language, I am at a loss 
to determine whether the inhabitants of China are de- 
scended from Shem or Japhet ; the position of the 
country would incline one to believe the latter, though 
their manners, so unlike their Tartar neighbours, 
seem to contradict it ; yet this objection may be done 
away, by supposing them to settle immediately after 
the dispersion, which appears probable from their 
reckoning the cycle of sixty years from a period so re- 
mote as 2277 B. C. which answers exactly to the 
building of Babel. Their language consists entirely of 
monosyllables, which, with their known dislike of in- 
novation in every thing, inclines me to think that it 
may perhaps differ less than any other from the orig- 
inal language, or at least from that of Noah." 



" We laugh at Erostratus for setting fire to the 
temple of Diana at Ephesus, that his name might be 
remembered ; but however ridiculous and foolish his 
ambition might be, it was the same which haa always 
influenced and annoyed mankind. Even so early as 
an hundred years after the deluge, we have a great in- 
stance of it recorded, in all men's joining in building 
the tower of Babel, ' to make themselves a name.' 
Since that time, to what end has Alexander, and all the. 



76 MISS smith's life. 

other conquerors of antiquity, waded throug-h blood, if 
not to be talked of, and that their names might be re- 
membered ? Even amongst those we call barbarians, 
the warrior rushes headlong into danger, that the song 
of the Bard may rise in his praise, and his deeds of val- 
our be remembered. Nor is the mischief of this pas- 
sion confined to bloodshed. Men will overturn ^11 the 
principles of the world, and publish the most extrava- 
gant doctrines, merely to be talked of. It is surely 
impossible that Hume could believe his own system ; 
he was only voracious of literary fame. The same 
might be said of Voltaire and his associates. It was 
the vanity of advancing something new, and making a 
revolution in the opinions of men, which prompted 
them in their writings. The passion was given to ex- 
cite us to good deeds ; but when men have no dispo- 
sition to distinguish themselves by what is good^ they 
fix on some splendid evil, which will be the most uni- 
versally felt, and consequently the most talked of. To 
this cause must in a great measure be attributed the 
variety of opinions which exist in the world on every 
subject ; some of them so very absurd, that it is im- 
possible to suppose their authors could believe in 
them. Perhaps he thinks himself the cleverest man, 
who can persuade the world to believe the most ina- 
probable fiction." 

What I have here transcribed, and much that is ir- 
recoverably lost ; the acquisitions in science which I 



MISS smith's life. 77 

have endeavoured to trace out, as well as the Virtues, 
to which I sliould in vain endeavour to do justice, were 
comprised in the short period of a life not yet extended 
beyond the twenty -first year ; and many of those years 
were spent without -a home, and without a library, 
and under the pressure of afflictions, which, however 
nobly supported, ' taught even youth and innocence to 
mourn.' Such was the life, which, when compared 
with the standard of perfection at which she aimed, ap- 
peared in her own eyes to call for the reflections that 
conclude the little book I have just transcribed, and 
which are dated January 1, 1798. 



" Being now arrived at what is called years of dis- 
cretion, and looking back on my past life with shame 
and confusion, when I recollect the many advantages I 
have had, and the bad use I have made of them, the 
hours I have squandered, and the opportunities of im- 
provement I have neglected ; — when I imagine what 
with those advantages I ought to be, and find myself 
what I am :— •! am resolved to endeavour to be more 
careful for the future, if the future be granted me ; to 
try to make amends for past negligence, by employing 
every moment I can command to some good purpose j 
to endeavour to acquire all the little knowledge that^ 
human nature is capable of on earth, but to let the 
word of God be my chief study, and all others subser- 
•vient to it ; to model rr.yself, as far as I am able, ac- 
cording to the Gospel of Christ ; to be content while 

7* 



MISS SMITH S LIFE. 



my trial lasts, and when it is finished to rejoice, trust- 
ing in the merits of my Redeemer. I have written 
these resolutions to stand as a witness against me, in 
case I should be inclined to forget them, and to return 
to my former indolence and thoughtlessness, because I 
have found the inutility of mental determinations. 
May God gi'ant me strength to keep them 1"* 

During the winter of 1797 and 1798, which Miss 
Smith spent at Bath, and the following summer, when 
she was first at (Conway, and afterwards at Plashently 
near Oswestry, she wrote the following letters to Lady 
Isabella King and Miss Hunt. 



TO THE LADY ISABELLA KING. 

« Bath, Se/it. 6, 1797. 
" I did promise, and thought it at the time a stretch 
of complaisance, to wait patiently six months for a let- 
ter, in case your Ladyship should be attacked by a fit 
of laziness ; but I did not answer for my patience en- 
during eiff/it. In truth 1 have been very impatient, 

* Of this paper Mrs. Smith says, *' I firmly believe this 
prayer was accepted, for I do not recollect any instance in 
which she could justly be accused of either indolence oi- 
thoughtlessness, except on the subject of her health ; on that 
point she trusted too mucli to the strength of a naturally good 
constitution ; and had so little confidence in human skill, that 
she neglected such means in the commencement of her last 
illness, as in all probability would have removed it." 



MISS smith's life. 79 

though I have not accused you of inconstancy, and 
thought you had given up all acquaintance with me ; 
as I never suspect any one who 1 am once convinced 
loves me, of ceasing to do so, unless I give them some 
cause of offence. However I have no right to com- 
pkiin, now that your dear letter is arrived ; but 1 wish 
that you would oftener give me an opportunity of 
thanking you for such an one. 

"Your Ladysliip is building castles. You set my 
my cuiiosity at work, and do not gratify it. Is one of 
them a journey to Bath next winter ? Do let it be soon, 
for we are building castles too, and sliall be flown in 
the spring. We are going, to my great satisfaction, 
to settle somewhere in a cheap and romantic country. 
My Father says Ireland ; but my Mother is terribly 
afraid of throat-cutting, and talks of Wales, Scotland, 
or the Lakes in Cumberland ; and seems most inclined 
to the neighbourhood of Derwentwater, which in point 
of scenery is the finest thing I know, and if my Father 
could come to us when he liked it, I should be perfectly 
content. The plan of our house is made, and our dif- 
ferent employments allotted to each of us. Kitty is 
to work in the garden under my Mother's inspection ; 
Juliet is to feed the poultry ; and I am to manage 
the dairy ; so you see our castle is in great forward- 
ness, if a puff of wind does not blow it away. Now 
you must give me some hopes of seeing you this win- 
ter, for we shall perhaps never come to Bath again, 
and you will not take the trouble of going to Keswick" 
to see us. 



80 MISS smith's life. 

" When will Lady OxMANTOwNCortie ? If she does 
not make haste, Miss Bowdler's Essay, which we 
have long had ready, will be printed ; for Mrs. Bowd- 
LER at her death left to each of her friends a copy of 
her daughter's works, instead of a ring, and our friend 
is going to print a handsome edition on purpose with 
the additional Essay.* 

" Will you have the goodness to remember us in 
{he kindest manner to our Elphin, as well as to our 
Kingston friends. I want to know a great many 
particulars about each individual, even to Alicia rf we 
have never heard whether she has recovered from the 
effects of her fall. 

" This night it will be exactly a year since I saw 
you last, when you came into my room and sat beside 
me — I cannot think for the last time. Do not you 
like making ' des bouts de I'an,' as Madame de Sevigne 
calls it ? I am particularly fond of it. The anniversary 
seems to bring the former event riaore immediately 
present to the imagination than any intervening day ; 
if that event has been happy, we enjoy it over again 
in the recollection ; if unfortunate, there is yet a pleas- 
ing melancholy in the repetition of every circumstance 
of it. It is like Ossian's soft music, ' pleasing yet 
jtiournful to the soul.' — Talking of music, my Mother 

* *' Essay on the duties and advantages of sickness," first 
printed in the 10th edition in quarto of Poems and Essays by 
the late Miss Bowdler, in 1798. 

t Lady Isabella Kino's horse. 



MISS smith's life. 81 

has bought me a Welsh Harp with the money that 
Brunette is to sell for. I call the harp Brunette, in 
memory of Lady Eleanor's kind present, and am ve- 
ry busy teaching myself to play upon it. 

" Have you ever made any enquiries for me about 
the statue of Fiuhn Mac Caul, near Carrick ? It ap- 
peared to us a very curious thing. I am abused here 
as an apostate, but I am half inclined to think that Os- 
sian was an Irishman, and I want to know every thing 
that can throw light on the subject. It is said, Mac- 
pherson ordered the originals to be published after his 
death ; if so, we shall soon be better enabled to 
judge. You must excuse me if I plague you too much 
on this subject. I am mad about Ossian ; — but I am 
mad about several things — about a great many things ; 
particularly about some German books, which you 7nnst 
read before 1 can rest. I am teaching Miss Bowbler 
German, because I must have some one to enjoy them 
with me. 

" I do not know whether you have any taste for me- 
chanics. If you have, perhaps you will like to have a 
description of a very clever thing which is now making 
near Batli ; if not, it is easily past over. It is called a 
Cassoon ;* the use of it is to convey boats, on a canal, 
down a hill, without the help of locks. It is a great 
box, forty feet long, placed in a pit sixty feet deep, and 

* This ingenious contrivance failed of success, from the dif- 
ficulty of securing- the masonry of the pit against the unequal 
pressure of tlie water. 



82 MISS SMITH S LIFE. 

full of water ; the surface of which water is on a level 
■with the upper canal, and the bottom of the pit is even 
■with the lower canal. When a boat is to be carried 
down, the door at the top of the pit is opened, and the 
boat swims into the Cassoon, which is half full of wa- 
ter. The Cassoon door is then shut, and being made, 
by the addition of a small quantity of water, heavier 
than the water in which it swims, it sinks to the bot- 
tom ; when the door at the bottom of the pit, and the 
door at the other end of the Cassoon, being opened, 
the boat goes out into the lower canal. The Cassoon 
rises again, as it is then lighter than the water in the 
pit. I do not know whether I have made this account 
intelligible, but it is very curious to see, and if you will 
come and look at it, you shall understand in a minute ! 
The inventor was a carpenter. 

" Now you must not, my dearest Lady Isabella, 
abuse me for sending you a stupid letter. You bid me 
<' write soo?2, if I loved you." I did not consider 
whether I had any thing to say, but obeyed, and I 
leave you to draw the inference." 



" Bath, JVov. 18, 1797. 
" Most sincerely do I sympathise with you, my dear- 
est Isabella, in every event which concerns you, but 
particularly in what regards the excellent Lord King- 
ston, for whom I feel so much interested on his owa 
account, as well as on yours. O that I could indeed 
do you any good ! that I could soothe your sorrows, 



MISS smith's life. 83 

and assist you in all your tender attentions to ease the 
bed of sickness ; or, if it must be so, help you to bear 
the pahi of parting, supported by the hope of meeting 
again ! But at this distance I can offer you nothing 
but words, and they are poor comfort ; you can find 
enough of them every where, though you will not every- 
where find a heart so tenderly interested in your hap- 
piness as mine — I intreat you to let me know how you 
go on. If the disorder should be so far reijioved that 
you could come to Bath, I must indulge a hope, though 
you have forbidden me." 



« Bath,Jan. 17, 1798. 

" Long since should I have written to my beloved 
Lady Isabella, had I not feared that my letters 
would be ill-timed, in the midst of many sorrows which, 
though I sincerely sympathised, I could not alleviate, 
and therefore was cautious not to disturb ; but no soon- 
er do you kindly say that you will read my letters, than 
I hasten to renew an intercourse which gives me infi- 
nite pleasure, whenever it is my turn to receive a let- 
ter. The writing one I should consider as a task, if 
there was not a pleasure in indulging the idea of youj 
which makes even that agreeable. 1 felt almost as if 
I had lost my own Father, when I heard of the excel- 
lent Lord Kingston's death. ■ 

There is nothing I am more thoroughly convinced of, 
than that every thing which happens is for some good 
purpose. We do not perhaps at the time see any pos- 



84 MISS smith's life. 

sible Ejood that can result from any particular event, 
but we often see it afterwards, and if we do not live to 
see it, others do. This opinion makes me perfectly- 
easy, while I see every body frightened to death at the 
idea of an invasion. I am persuaded that if it be for 
the benefit of mankind that the French should conquer 
England, and cut my throat amongst the rest, they will 

be permitted to do so ; if not, they will not. 

" Will you tell me any place in Dubhn to which we 
might send the little Manuscript, wliich has been ready 
this twelvemonth ? My Mother will write soon. She 
sends kindest love to your Ladyship, and begs to be 
respectfully and affectionately remembered to Lady 
Eleanou, in which I beg to join ; and then will trou- 
ble you no Ioniser than to assure you of my everlasting 
regard and affection." 



« Bath, March Sih, 1798. 
" I have but one quarrel with you, my dearest Lady 
Isabella ; nuy not a quarrel, that is too harsh a 
woid. I have but one fault to find with you, and it is 
this. You lay by your pen from week to week, in 
hopes of having something to say ; now it is not that 
I want. I want to know what you are doing, thinking, 
and feeling, because that interests me. If I want to 
laugh, I can look into a book of witticisms ; and into a 
book of proverbs, if I have an inclination for wise say- 
ings ; but in a letter from you I wish to find M'hatever 
comes first into your head to write, as that will proba- 
bly be what interests you, and of course 7iie, You will 



MISS smith's LiPE. *5 

say this is only an apology for the letter I am going to 
T/rite, but finding a convenient opportunity for writing 
I would not delay it, because if I waited for that oppor- 
tunity, and a bright moment to meet, I should never 
write at ail ; therefore you must take me in all my 
dullness, if you wish to be troubled with my letters. 

" I feel excessively proud of the office you have bes- 
towed on me, and I will begin to exercise it. — Have 
you read the Pursuits of Literature ? It is a satirical 
poem. I dislike satire in general, but this appears to 
me one of the cleverest books I ever met wiih, and in- 
deed this is the general opinion respecting it. I should 
not have given mine so decidedly, had you not particu- 
larly desired it. This book cannot be read less than 
twice ; once with the notes, and the second time re- 
membering the notes but not reading them. — I have 
read Robison on the Illuminati. It is said by people 
well informed on the subject to be a true representa- 
tion. There is another book which goes much deeper 
into the subject, by Baruel. I have not read it, be- 
cause I thought the other contained quite horrors 
enough. We have loads of polilical pamphlets which 
I never read, any more than newspapers j because I 
am sure to have the cream of them without the trouble 
of skimming it ; but one I must recommend to you as 
being excellent in its way. It is written by the eldest 
brother of your favourite Miss Bowdler.* The title 

* The Author of " Poems and Essays," published after her 
death. None of her family had at that time the honour of be- 
ing personally known to Lady Isabella Kino. 
8 



96 MISS smith's life, 

is ' Reform or Ruin.' I believe it is now printed in 
Ireland.— The little Essay shall be sent by the first 
conveyance. Perhaps that may be ourselves. —— 

" Pray present my most affectionate respects to La- 
dy Eleanor. How does her weak health bear all 
she has had to go through ? Do not expect me to obey 
when you bid me forget the contents of your last let- 
ter, for indeed I do not intend to forget a word of it, 
though probably least of all that which you allow me 
to remember. Now pray, my dear Lady Isabella, 
write to me sooxiy—^very soon ; and let it not be a 
bright letter but a stupid one, the most stupid you can 
write, and you see I have sent you a foil which will 
tnake any thing you write appear bright as the sun. 
My poor brains have nothing to put in it but the sin- 
cerest affection of your, &c." 



" TO MISS HUNT. 

« Co77Way, May 26. 

" Every day since I came here I have been wishing 
to write to you, but because you were so considerate as 
to bid me not do it till we were settled, the time has 
been ungratefully put off. Yet you have not been ab- 
sent from my thoughts ; — no, if I had thought less 
about all in your corner of the world, I might perhaps 
sooner have felt disposed to write. However we are 
all very well and very comfortable now, remembering our 
friends only as we ought, and as I trust we always 



i 



MISS smith's life. 87 

shall. I wish I were sure that you are equally com- 
fortable, but knowing your contented disposition, I 
am inclined to think you are. I think I am content ; 
and yet to be sure I should like to have you here, and 
explore with you all the dark winding passages and bro- 
ken staircases of this beautiful Castle. There is one 
of the towers that Avould make tlie nicest dwelling in 
the world. I am sure you would wish to inhabit it. 
It stands on a rock overhanging the river, which is 
more properly an arm of the sea, and commands the 
finest view imaginable. It consists of three circular 
rooms one over the other ; in the second of which 
there is a semi-circular niche with a beautiful roof of 
groined arches, supported by pillars, with a seat all 
round, capable of containing five or six people, and 
three Avindows looking on the river and its beautiful 
banks. To all this fairy castle there is nothing want- 
ing but the possibility of getting at it, for the timbers 
are entirely gone, and I pine in vain to get into the 
little niche. It certainly would be very snwj', filled ex- 
actly as one would wish ; but any place would do, so 
filled, therefore let us be content at the foot of the 
tower. 

" I am glad our dear Miss Bowdler is so happy at 
her Tower. We have so quick communication with 
her, that it scarcely seems as if we were separated. 
Perhaps we are preparing by degrees for a more last- 
ing separation from all our friends ; but our fate is 
still uncertain. We must make the best of the pres- 
ent, and let the future shift for itself. I never felt such 



88 MISS smith's lift:. 

hot weather in May as we have here ; but the air is 
uncommonly soft as well as clear, and in the evenings 
we take delightful walks, and find great use for our 
sketch-books. There is another circumstance that 
would please you ; we meet with a great variety of 
beautiful plants, particularly the little burnet-rose grows 
jn tufts on the mountains, in the marshes, and almost 
every where. We find here, indeed, every thing we 
wish for, except a few old fi iends. Our books are not 
arrived, but that is no misfortune, for I never find time 
to read. You will wonder what we do, and really I 
cannot very well tell, except rambling about to take 
views, and finishing them a little when we return home. 
I did flatter myself that here I should find time for ev- 
ery thing, but either I am a very bad contriver, ar 
lime does not stand still on any spot of the earth. If 
any one can catch him, I think it must be j/om, and I 
am certain you will make the best u&e of his company." 



" Conway, July 10, 1798. 

" We are grown such vagrants, that it is not with- 
out many fruitless efforts that I sit down to write, even 
to you. I believe you will not doubt that my inclina- 
tion makes that a lighter task than if I were addressing 
myself to any one else ; but 1 am afraid, if we stay 
much longer amongst these delightful scenes, I shall 
grow completely and irrecoverably idle. It is not so 
■with you, I dare say ; you are studying hard, and en- 
joying peace, quietness, and leisure, in you comforta- 



MISS smith's Life. 89 

ble litttle retreat. I believe I should €llvy you, if I 
were not where I am. I often recollect how we all 
gi-oaned together at Bath, at the idea of the unpleasant 
summer we expected to pass in our different lots ; and 
comparing that idea with the happiness we actually 
enjoy, (of which from our want of confidence we were 
so particularly undeserving,) I determine never agaia 
to be anxious about any thing ; persuaded that all 
events are much better disposed than if / had the man- 
agement of them. You will think I am beginning to 
philosophise, because there is nothing at present to dis- 
turb me ; but indeed I expect a very great misfortune. 
I will not think of it beforehand, nor complain if it 
happen : this is all my philosophy can do. 

" And now you must mount your old friend Pegasus, 
and go with me to the top of Snowdon to adore the 
ribing sun. If you think your steed will not be tired, 
you may as well meet me at Caernarvon at five o'clock 
in the evening of the seventh of last month. You 
know, present, past, and future, are all one to your 
nine frieiids . Meet me then at Caernarvon, go with me 
into the Castle, ramble with me through dark passages 
without end or number, many more than I had time to 
go into, for they are galleries, leading all round the 
walls, and round every tower, lighted only by smal| 
slits, in a wall twelve feet thick, for shooting arrows \ 
so that many hundred soldiers might be employed in 
defending this castle, and be visible neither without nor 
within. Ascend with me the Eagle Tower, and count 
if you can the number of steps, for indeed I forgot (s 

8* 



90 MISS smith's life. 

reckon, and having no book of travels from which t& 
extract a journal, I cannot tell you. Hear Mr. C— , 
the barber, our cicerone, very learnedly refute the opin- 
ion of Mr. Pennant, that Edward II. was born in a lit- 
tle dark shabby roo-m in the tower, and establish his 
own,— that that event certainly took place in the large 
circular room on the first floor ; acknovfledging at the 
same time that the nurse might possibly retire occa- 
sioiully with the child into Mr. Pennant's room. 
Come on into another little room, and if you chuse to 
be remembered amongst fools, write your name upon 
the plunks which still remain. Hear a long account 
from Mr. C— -, of a boy being let down to the bottom 
of one of the towers, where there is water, to fetch up 
a dog that had been thrown there, and discovering an 
iron gate, through which he saw a subterraneous pas- 
sage never yet explored, and hurry away from the 
Castle, wishing to spend days and weeks in examin- 
ing it. 

" July 12. — I find myself so idle, and my travels so. 
much more tedious in the recital than in the perform- 
ance, that if I go on giving you a particular account I 
shall never finish. I will therefore tell you the rest of 
our adventures as briefly as possible. Quitting^ the 
Castle, we took a most delightful walk beside the river 
on which it stands, to observe the outside of the build- 
ing, which, as beauty is but comparative, I being of the 
sect of the Convvayites, do not admire. We returned 
to the Inn ;-^I suppose you are aware that we means 
my Mother, Mrs. Geokge Smith, and I, who set out 



>nss smith's life. 91 

together fiom Conway at nine the same morning •— . 
well ; we returned to the Inn, and eat an enormous 
suppei*. You know travellers always tell you how 
much they eat, but I in compassion will spare you the 
description of every dish, and how much was paid for 
it, because I have forgotten both ; however this supper 
is not mentioned in vain, for indeed it was not eaten in 
vain. As soon as we had accomplished it, we set off 
(about eleven at night) for the foot of Snowdon, and 
travelled eight miles through a fine mountainous coun* 
try by moon-light. Before one we arrived £.t a little 
hut where the guide lives, and after having him called 
up, and loaded with a basket of bread and milk, and a 
tin box for specimens, we began our march at a quar- 
ter past one. The clouds were gathering over the 
mountains, and threatening us with either darkness or 
rain. We however escaped both, anc;! were only amu- 
sed with every variety they could give the landscape, 
by hiding or half obscuring the moon, and by blotting 
out now one mountain, and now another, from our 
view ; till about two o'clock, when the dawn began to 
appear, they covered the moon, and we saw her no 
more. We proceeded by a very easy ascent over 
boggy ground till half-past two, when coming suddenly 
to the top of the first range of hills, and meeting with 
a violent wind which blew from the quarter where the 
sun was to rise, (for we ascended the mountain on the 
south-west side,) Mrs. G. Smith was frightened, and 
seeing a very steep ascent before her, said she would 
sit down and wait for our return. My Mother sjvid 



92 MISS smith's life. 

she would stay with her, and I proposed our all going- 
back together ; but my Mother very kindly insisted on 
my proceeding. We therefore divided provisions, the 
ladies returned to the hut from which we had set out, 
and I went on with the guide, who could not speak a 
word of English. We steered our course more to- 
wards the south, and toiled up several mountains, in 
some parts covered with loose stones, which had fallen 
from the broken summits, but in general overgrown 
with different sorts of moss, and a kind of short grass, 
mixed with immense quantities of the Gallium fiusil- 
lum. I picked up a few other plants, but on the whole 
was disappointed in the botanical way, as I found very 
little that I had not before met with on the mountains 
in this neighbourhood ; however, this is not the time 
of the year for mountain curiosities. I went on as fast 
as I could, without stopping, except now and then for 
a moment to look down on the mountains under my 
feet, as clouds passed over them, thinking each summit 
I saw before me was the last, and unable to gain any 
information from the guide to satisfy my impatience ; 
for I wished to be at the top before sun-rise, and 
pink clouds began to appear over the steep I was 
climbing. I also knew that the Ladies would be very 
impatient for my return, nor was I without anxiety 
on their account, as I was not sure they would find 
their way back to the hut. These ideas occupied my 
mind all the way up, and if that deceitful but com- 
forting lady — Hofie, had not continually presented to 
me the range of hills I was ascending as the last 



MISS smith's life. 93 

step in ambition's ladder, I am not sure that, with 
all my eagerness to get to the top, I should not have 
turned back. I was debating this point very earnestly 
with myself, in ascending an almost perpendicular 
green slope, when on a sudden I saw at n>y feet an 
immense chasm, all in darkness, and of a depth I 
cannot guess, certainly not less than a hundred feet ; 
I should suppose much more. It answers in some 
respects to the idea I have formed of the crater of a 
volcano, but evidently is not that, as there is no mark 
of fire, the rock being composed, as it is in general 
throughout this country, of a sort of slate. Nor does 
the mountain appear to have been thrown down, but 
the pit to have sunk in ; which must probably have been 
occasioned by subterranean waters, as there is water at 
the bottom of the pit, and the mountain is full of 
springs. You think you are now at the top, but you 
are mistaken. I am standing indeed at the top of the 
abyss, but with a high rocky peak rising on each side 
of me, and descending very near perpendicularly into 
the lake at the bottom. I have taken a rough sketch 
of one of these peaks, with the lake in the deepest 
shadow ; I am turning over my paper, (which the 
wind renders very difficult,) in order to draw another ; 
— I look up, and see the upper part illuminated by a 
beautiful rose-coloured light, while the opposite part 
still casts a dark shade over its base, and conceals the 
sun itself from my view. If I were ready to jump 
into the pit with delight at first seeing it, my ecstacy 
wan now still greater. The guide seemed c^uite de- 



^4 MISS smith's life. 

lighted to see me so much pleased, and took care in de- 
scending to lead me to the edge of every precipice, 
which he had not done in going up. I however pres- 
ently recollected that I was in a great hurry to get 
back, and set off along the brink of the cavity for the 
highest peak, where I arrived at a quarter past four, 
and saw a view, of whicii it is impossible to form an 
idea from description. For many miles around it was 
composed of tops of mountains, of all the various forms 
that can be imagined ; some appeared swimming in an 
ocean of vapour ; on others the clouds lay like a cap 
of snow, appearing as soft as down. They were all 
far below Snowdon, and I was enjoying the finest blue 
sky, and the purest air I ever breathed. The whole 
prospect was bounded by the sea, except to the east 
and South-east, and the greaicst part of the land in those 
points was blotted out by clouds. The sun, however, 
rose so far towards the north-east as to be still hanging 
over the sea. I took a sketch of a small part of the moun- 
tains, with some of the little lakes which appear at their 
feet ; sat down, for the first time, on a circle of stones 
"which is built on the top of the hill,and made great havoc 
in the bread and milk, in which accomplishment the 
guide equalled, if not surpassed me ; and at half-past 
four, almost frozen 1 began to descend. My anxiety 
about my friends increased as I came near the spot 
where I had left them ; I made all possible haste, and 
found them safe in the hut at ten minutes past 6. It cer- 
tainly would have been pleasanterto have had more time, 
and some one to enjoy the expedition with mcj but 1 am 



MISS smith's life. 9S 

delighted that I have been, and would not for any thing 
give up the recollection of the sublime scene. We got 
into the carriage immediately, and went four miles fur- 
ther to breakfast at a little village, from whence we 
walked to the Devil's-Bridge, which is fine almost be- 
yond imagination ; returned to Caernarvon to dinner, 
walked about there in the evening, and went to bed 
after thirty-nme hours of almost consta»t exercise. Af- 
ter this I think you will not take the trouble to enquire 
after my health ; it must be tolerably good. I intend- 
ed writing a very short letter, but recollecting you 
would perhaps like some news from Snowdon, I have 
been lead on till I fear your patience is exhausted, 
though I have suppressed at least half of what I wish 
to say." 

TO THE LADY ISABELLA KING. 

« Plas Henlly, Sept. 19, 1798. 
" Most sadly has your picture of happiness been re- 
versed, my dear Lady Isabella. I could not bear to 
answer so pleasant a letter with lamentations, but I 
hope that your tranquillity is now restored, and that 
you are as liappy as I wish you, which certainly is as 
much as you can wish for yourself. We have been 
particularly interested in the late invasion, because the 
scene of action has been all our oivn country^ about 
Boyleland Sligo. I hope no harm has happened to it, 
or any of its inhabitants. We reckoned that the 



96 MISS smith's life. 

French must pass close by Nympsfield, and feared 
they would choose to pay a visit to Mrs. O'Hara. 
Pray tell me all you know about it, when you write. 

" I conclude you have seen my Father by this time. 
When we shall see him again, or whether we ever 
shall, seems now so uncertain, that I should be very 
unhappy if I had not left off grieving for any thing. — 
This is a very ugly place, and a sad change from Con- 
way, where we were very happy. We are but eight 
miles from Llangollen, where Mrs. H. Bow^dler now 
is, as well as the amiable Ladies of the Vale, but we 
might as well be an hundred miles off, for we never 
see them. 

" I am very glad you like the new edition of Miss 
Bowdler's Essays. The writer was dead before I 
knew the family ; but those who have seen her say 
the print is like, though I think they generally agree 
that it is a flattering likeness. 

'• What you say of dissipation is exactly what I ex- 
pected from you. You have seen so little of it that it 
was very natural you should enjoy it at first ; but you 
certainly are not made for it, and I am entirely of your 
opinion, that you must seek for happiness in more ra- 
tional employments, for which you are well qualified. 
One can allow those to spend their lives in folly, whose 
minds are incapable of any thing better, but such as 
yours should not be thrown away, and I am persuaded 
ivill not.* You will laugh at my preaching, but in- 

* How far Miss Smith's ideas with regnitl to this lady 
have been realized, is well knowii to the grateful inhabitants 
of Bath'. 



4IISS smith's life. 9V 

deed the lack of new objects, and new subjects, has ve- 
ry nearly occasioned a stagnation of ideas in my mind. 
As your Ladyship says, I want something to interest 
me, and therefore I beg you to write to give a fillip to 
my ideas, which will otherwise be congealed into a 
mass of ice this winter. I am sure you can perceive 
symptoms of freezing in this letter, though as you can- 
not perceive what is not, I hope you will never find my 
regard and affection for you in the least degree cooled. 
It is no compliment to say I should rejoice to hear 
from you hei-e, for the getting a letter from any body is 
an event ; how great then must be my joy at receiving 
one which would delight me any where." 



Miss Hunt had sent the letter containing the de- 
scription of Snowdon to our mutual friend Mrs. De 
Luc ; and Miss Smith heard that it had been men- 
tioned with approbation by an illustrious lady, to whom 
Mrs, De Luc had read it. This circumstance will 
explain the next letter. 



« Shirley, March 25, 1799. 
" Unworthy as you are of a line from my pen, I 
should be very glad of a few from your's, and therefore 
must condescend to ask for them ; trusting to the in- 
sipidity of all I have to say, that my letter will not be 
put in the trumpet of fame, and blown to the four quar- 
ters of the world ; for ill as you use your friends, I 



■98 MISS smith's life. 

believe you have still sufficient regard for a certain 
Mary Hunt, not to publish that she is the most 
treacherous of human beings, and that she as much de- 
serves to be taken up for treason as any of his Majes- 
ty's disloyal subjects. Now having vented my anger, 
I have nothing more to say, but that I should be very- 
glad to hear from you. 

" I have got — I will not tell you what ; a little, a 
very little book* always in my pocket. Mr. Claxton 
has given it me. It is two books bound in one, and 
contains a vast deal of wisdom ; but you are a blab, and 
shall know no more. 

" To our dear Miss Bowdler I have not written for 
a long time, because conscience stood in tlie way ; nor 
to some others, because idleness and cold weather pre- 
vented me. Bedford is here for the holidays. He 
is very much improved, and a very fine boy. Give my 
love to all my friends ; send me a particular account of 
Mrs. F. Bateman, as well as of your own invalids, 
and then I will pardon and obliterate all your past of- 
fences. 

" If you want to consult the Syriac translation of the 
New Testament upon any particular passage, let me 
know. Mr. Claxton has a very fine one, printed in 
Hebrew characters, and the language is so very like 
the Hebrew, and where it differs from that, so like the 
Arabic, that I can read it very well." 

* Sententiae Rabbinorum- 



MISS smith's life. 99 



« May 7, 1799. 

" I suppose you conclude that I a?n ' afraid of being- 
tired with your answers ;' but philosophers sometimes 
draw false conclusions, and this is one of them. I 
cannot enter into all the reasons for not writing soon- 
er. It is enough that here I am,^while Mercury 
is vainly trying to get the better of Apollo, — here I 
am writing to you, instead of watching their conflict. 
It is true I have no very great merit in my forbear- 
ance, because I cannot see through the veil with 
•which they have chosen to conceal themselves ; 
therefore be not too vain in fancying I prefer your 
company to theirs. I imagine you are at this mo- 
ment visiting your neighbour. Dr. Herschell, and I 
desire you will communicate to me in this nether 
world all the information you collect in your noctur- 
nal, as well as diurnal, peregrinations to the heavens. 
I shall envy, — no, I will not say envy you, but I 
should like to go with you, as I should have liked to 
have had you with me in some of my late amusements, 
such as seeing the British Museum, pictures and stat- 
ues without end, and some very curious pieces of 
mechanism. 

" I have just received an invitation to go and look 
at the gods through a good telescope. All in vain ! 
I fancy we have been humbugged. I have seen the 
sun as flat as a trencher, but not a bit of Mercury. 
Do tell me, if it ought to be seen to-day ; and if it 
ought, what is the matter with our eyes. 



100 MISS smith's life. 

" In town, I have been reading two volumes of 
Sully's Memoirs, with which 1 am delighted, and 
which I mean to finish the next time I can meet 
with it. Since I came back, I have been reading 
Cicero's letters to Atticus : I cannot say that I un- 
derstand every part of them, on account of many al- 
lusions to circumstances of the times, but with many 
parts I am much pleased." 



In the summer of the year 1799, Mrs. Smith and 
all her family removed to Ireland, where Captain 
Smith's regiment was still quartered. During their 
vesidence in that hospitable country, they received 
much kind attention, which they always mention with 
the warmest expressions of gratitude. The following 
elegant poem, which was addressed to Mrs. Smith 
when the family left Ballitore in 1800, to reside at 
Patterdale, will shew the impression their characters 
and conduct had rrnide on the amiable and ingenious 
writer. 



Soft o'er the vale of Ballitore 
The gale of peace was wont to blow j 

Till discord rais'd her direful horn. 

And fill'd tlie shades with sounds of woe . 

The blood-stain'd earth, the warlike bands. 
Our trembling natives saw with dread ; 



MISS smith's life. 101 

Dejected labour left her toil, 

And summer's blithe enjoyments fled. 

But see, th' avenging sword is sheath'd. 

And mercy's voice is lieard at last.^^ 
How sweet, beside the winter's fire. 

To ponder on the perils past ! 

Ah ! think not yet your trial's o'er j 

From yonder mountain's hollow side- 
The fierce Banditti issue forth. 

When dai'kness spreads her curtain wide.; 

With murd'rous arms and haggard eyes, 5 

The social joys away they fright ; 
Sad expectation clouds the day. 

And sleep forsakes the fearful night. 

Now martial troops protect the vale. 

At distance prowl the ruffian band.— 
Oh, Confidence ! thou dearer guard. 

Why hast thou left this luckless land ? 

We droop and mourn o'er many a joy, 

O'er many a friend to dust consign'd ;— 
But ev'ry comfort is not fled, — 

Behold another friend we find. 



l©2 *ns» smith's life. 

Lo, Juliet comes to grace the plain. 

And friendship claims the precious prize j 

She grants the claim, nor does her hearfe 
The children of the vale despise. 

Though polish'd life, with every charm^ 
To her its brilliant scenes display'd ; 

Though form'd to ornament a coui't. 
She deigns to dignify the shade. 

But shades more worthy of the guest 
From us this precious prize require ; 

Guiltless of blood, with quiet blest, 

Where truth's own bard attunes his lyre.* 

Where Clarkson for the helpless pleads. 
Where nature's charms majestic rise ; 

And broad Ulswater's beauteous lake 
Gives back the mountains, woods, and skies. 

There, Jumet, may thy lovely maids. 
Their pencil's wond'rous art employ ; 

While each acquirement gives the pow^f 
To increase their tender parent's joy. 

Unknown to dissipated minds 
The joys their gentle bosoms know ; 

* Thomas Wilkinson. 



MISS smith's life. 103 

•'Tis theirs to turn the classic page, 
'Tis theirs to melt at otlier's woe. 

And there, released from war's alarms. 

May thy lov'd lord deliglited rove ; 
And lay the radiant scarf aside. 

Dear pledge of Julie I's anxious love. 

Like the bright dames of ancient days. 

She fram'd the web of crimson stain ; 
To grace her hero's form, or bear 

Her hero wounded from the plain. 

And still dispensing kindness round. 

The happy houshold shall unite ; 
Wliile from amid surrounding bow'rs 

Their virtues beam with native light. 

And in their joys ive still shall joy. 

While fancy views their dear retreat ; 
Though Juliet's eye, and Juliet's smile. 

No more our gladden'd sight shall meet. 

What though the tender tear shall start. 

And soft regret the sigh shall send ; 
Yet shall our conscious hearts exult 

In the rich gift of such a friend !* 

• The author of these lines, a Qiiaker, is now publishing by 
subscription, " Poems, by Mary Leadbeater, (late Shackleton,) 
of BalUtore, including a translation of MafFoeus's 13th i£neid." 



1©4 MISS smith's life. 



I will here insert some productions of which I can- 
not exactly ascertain the date, but which were certain- 
ly written before the removal to Ireland. The imita- 
tion of Ossian was probably written at a much earlier 
period ; as Miss Smith's partiality for the Highland 
Bard was not quite so great after she became acquain- 
ted with the learned languages as it had been in her 
childhood ; though she never believed that the work 
was entirely modern, and was very desirous to read 
the Poems published by Dr. Smith in the original 
language, but the want of a grammar prevented her 
making much progress. When she was in Ireland, 
she endeavoured to collect traditional accounts of the 
Heroes of Morven and Erin ; and always mentioned 
■with pleasure any circumstances which appeared to 
prove the antiquity of the poems. f 



Lnitadon of Ossian. 



« It is the voice of woe," I cried, as our bark was 
tossing on the foaming wave ; " it is the voice of 
woe, O Finan ; I hear it at times in the blast ; it 
shrieks from yonder rock. Now the storm is some- 
what abated, let us take our oars, and try to reach the 
shore. Perhaps there is some one, more wretched 
than we, to whom we may bring comfort ; and will 
not that be comfort to ourselves, son of Derog ?" 

f See her letters to Lady Isabella King. 



i 



MISS smith's mfe. 105 

♦ We can bring no com tort there, O Luno,' answered 
Finan, ' 'tis the land of departed spirits. I see the 
dim forms of our fathers, sailing in their grey robes 
of mist across the mountains. They beckon us to ap- 
proach, they shriek our welcome, for full well they 
know the ocean soon will bear us to that land of 
darkness ; we shall never more behold our lov'd, our 
lonely Kilda. Our wives look out from the rocks, 
the fair Malvina, and the raven-hair'd Edilda ; they 
think they see a distant sail, joy sparkles in their eyes ; 
it was but a passing cloud. They look silent and 
mournful on each other, they slowly return to their 
children. O Luno, let us not rashly urge our fate ; it 
is rapture to think yet a moment on Kilda.' " Does 
Finan fear to die ?" I said ; " Finan the bravest among 
heroes ; he who was first to climb the rock, and seek 
the sea-fowl's nest ; he who was foremost in the fight ; 
does he weep and tremble, when summoned to the 
hall of his fathers ? When the valiant Derog advances 
to welcome his champion, shall he meet the groveling 
soul of a little man ?" Finan spoke not, he raised his 
oar ; I took up mine, we rowed till we reached the 
shore. The voice of mourning had ceased ; there' 
was no sound from the cave of the rock. We wan- 
dered on the beach to seek the habitations of men. In 
the cave of the rock sate a woman, beautiful as the 
dawn of the morning to the benighted traveller, but 
her form was wasted with sorrow ; she was like the 
young rose of the mountain which the deer has torn up 
by the roots ; it is still lovely, but its strength has 



106 MISS smith's life. 

failed. Her head was leaning on her hand, she saw 
not our approach. On her knees lay a young child, at 
her feet a youth like the sons of heroes. We gazed a 
moment in silence ; at l-jngth I spake. ' Daughter of 
sorrow, tell thy grief ; we too have known misfortune, 
and learnt to pity the ciistressed.' She raised her 
head, she gazed with wild surprize. " Sons of the 
Ocean," she replied, " I have no sorrow notv. My 
child is dead, and I shall follow him. Ere the dark 
dews of evening fall, I shall meet thee, my child, in the 
airy hall of my fathers." Her head sunk again on 
her hand in silence. ' Yet, tell us, lovely mourner,' 
I said, ' tell us what land is this ? for we come from 
far, tossed by the tempest from the lonely Kilda.* 
" Strangers," she replied, " have ye never heard of 
Rona ? Rona, whose fame spread wide as the light 
of day. Her sons were generous and brave, her fields 
■were fruitful in corn, her hills were covered with 
sheep. Then was the stranger welcome to the feast. 
Five families dwelt on our plains ; their chief was my 
father, the valiant Cormac, whose presence was like 
sun-shine to his guests. Oft have I heard the voice 
of joy resound in his hall, and seen the beam of grat- 
itude in the eye of the shipwrecked mariner. But 
now famine has wasted our island, and there is noth- 
ing left to give the weary traveller." ' Surely,' I cried, 
' the hand of the liberal should ever be filled with 
plenty, happiness should dwell in his habitation, and 
his children should never taste of sorrow. Or if the 
tear hang on their cheek for a moment, the hand of pity 



MISS smith's Life. lOT 

should be near to wipe it away, and to restore the 
smile of gladness. Then why is the daughter of Cor- 
muc left desolate ? Why does the child of the gene- 
rous suffer want ?' " Because she chose riches rather 
than virtue," replied the lovely mourner, " yet has she 
not been unpitied ; but that pity, like yon coloured 
bow which makes the dark cloud seem still darker, 
made her folly more apparent, and tore her heart with 
anguish. Oh ! son of other lands, I will tell thee my 
sad tale, though the remembrance be painful to my 
soul. Then wilt thou see that the daughter of Coimac 
has not suffered unjustly. — Two youths sought the 
hand of Evirallin, only daughter of the generous Cor- 
mac. Dermod was rich, for his house was well stored 
with corn, three cows gave him their milk, and twenty 
sheep grazed for him on the mountain. The store of 
Mordred was small, yet was he richer than Dermod, 
for he had a noble soul. But I chose Dermod with his 
flocks and herds ; for I said, the wife of Dermod nev- 
er can know want ; pleasure will always attend her 
call, she has only to wish, and be satisfied. 'Twas 
wlien the eve was lengthened out almost to meet the 
dawn, and the sun set far to the north, that I became 
the spouse of Dermod. The soul of Mordred was 
sad. The crop which then looked green, was blast- 
ed ere the harvest ; it gave us not three months' food. 
In the spring the sea-weed failed on the coast, the cat- 
tle died of hunger. Then was Dermod equalled with 
the poorest, Ou r neighbours died around us. We 
divided the last scanty meal ; then wandered different 



i08 MISS smith's life. 

ways to seek for herbs and roots, or rather, not to see 
each other die. As 1 mused on the top of a rock 
Mordred came up with a little cake. * Eat,' he cried,, 
' Evirallin ; preserve thy life and that of thy child. 
While yet there was corn, I was sparing ; I have still 
enough for many days. Perhaps ere that is gone, 
some friendly bark may brink us aid.' The tear of 
gratitude was on my cheek, but I could not thank the 
the generous Mordred. Scarce had I tasted the food, 
when Dermod came with haste ; he tore the cake 
from my hand,ere I could give him half, and eagerly de- 
voured it. Mordred, seized with rage, struck him to 
the ground, and he fell headlong from the rock ; the 
dark wave received him, and he rose no more. We 
both stood speechless for a moment, then Mordred 
rushed forward to follow him, but I seized his arm. 
" O Mordred," I cried, " leave me not desolate. 
There is none left alive but thee, and me, and this 
little babe. We all shall perish soon, but let not me be 
the last. Leave me not like the wounded sea-mew, 
whom her companions have abandoned, to sit com- 
plaining on the desert rock !".^The heart of Mordred 
was moved ; he walked slow and silent away. Each 
day did he bring me a little cake. When I begged 
him to eat, he would not ; he said, ' I have eaten be- 
fore.' This day he came before the accustomed time, 
he brought this little cake. * Take it,' he cried, ' Evi- 
rallin ; it is the last. I came sooner than usual, for I 
felt that I could not live. I have never tasted food 
since the day that I killed Dermod.' He sunk down 



MISS smith's life. 199 

at my feet. In vain I tried to restore him ; the noble 
spirit fled. Then did I pour out my grief ; I mourn- 
ed my own hard fate, and I gave his praise to the 
winds. The son of the rock repeated it, there was 
none else to hear. But I remembered my child, which 
lay on the matted sea-weed. I returned — it was dead ! 
Then were my cares at an end ; I sat down to wait for 
death, which will, ere long, relieve me. Yet, stranger, 
ere I go, I'eceive this little cake ; 'tis all the wretched 
Evirallin has to give. I could not eat it ; 'twere like 
eating the flesh of Mordred !" — She ceased ; she was 
faint ; two hours 1 supported her head. Finan wept 
over Mordred. At length I felt her hand ; it was cold 
and lifeless. We made a grave beneath the han.^ing 
rock. We laid the fair Evirallin in the narrow house, 
and Mordred and the child beside her. We reared 
these grey stones at their heads, to mark the spot to 
future wanderers of the ocean. The last ray of the 
setting sun look'd on the new made grave !" 



I do not know when the following reflections were 
written, but the idea was probably suggested by the 
German poem quoted in a letter to Miss Hunt, dated 
April r, 1794. — See page 39, 



" Reason and Revelation, the two lights which the 
Almighty has given us to dispel the darkness of ig' 

10 



110 MISS smith's life. 

norance, and guide us to the knowledge of truth, may 
be aptly compared to the two lights He has placed to 
dispel the darkness of the natural world, and lead us 
to an acquaintance with the visible objects that sur- 
round us. 

" As the sun is the grand instrument by which light 
is dispensed to the whole earth, and so resplendent 
that all other lights may be accounted darkness in com- 
parison ; — so revelation is the instrument by which 
knowledge is communicated, and so much does it ex- 
ceed all other evidence in strength, that it alone de- 
serves the name of knowledge. 

" As the moon shines with lustre borrowed from the 
sun, and witnesses his existence even in his absence, 
by reflecting a light which she could not have received 
but from him ; — ^so reason shines with the reflected 
lustre of revelation, and witnesses its truth, even where, 
at first sight, it seems never to have existed, by pre- 
senting ideas which the mind of man could not have 
formed, and which therefore must have been original- 
ly received from revelation. 

" As the sun diffuses not only light, but vivifying 
heat, and may properly be called the animating prin- 
ciple of nature ;— .so revelation diffuses not merely 
speculative knowledge, but that which leads to ever- 
lasting life, and may be said to reanimate the soul. 

" The moon gives no heat ; neither will reason ever 
lead us to life eternal. 

" The sun shines in vain for whatever is not expos- 
ed to its light and heat ; and revelation has been given i 
in vain for those who will not receive its influences. 



iijiss smith's life. hi 

" As the moon is not annihilated by the presence of 
the sun, but only lost in the superior splendour of his 
beams ; — so reason is not contradicted by revelation, 
but lost in the superior blaze of evidence. 

" The sun is too dazzling for our unassisted eyes 
to behold ; and revelation is too glorious for our weak 
faculties fully to comprehend. 

" The light of the moon is faint and dubious : and 
the light of reason is but an uncertain guide. 

" The Scriptures plainly point to the analogy be- 
tween the natural and spiritual worlds, in number- 
less instances ; as, when the moon is called ' the 
faithful witness in heaven ;' Christ is called ' the sun 
of righteousness,' ' the light of the world.' 8cc. 



SONG FROM AFAR, 

Translated from a German Poem by Matthison. 

*' When in the last faint lig-ht of ev'ning 

A smiling- form glides softly by, 
A gentle sigh its bosom heaving, 

While thou in oaken grove dost lie ; 
It is the spirit of thy friend. 
Which whispers — 'All thy cares shall end.' 

'* When in the mild moon's peaceful twilight 
Foreboding thoughts and dreams arise. 



i 12 MISS smith's life. 

And at the solemn liour of midnight 

Paint fairy scenes before thine eyes ; 
The poplars g-ive a rustling sound, — 
It is my spirit hovers round. 

"When, deep In fields of ancient story. 
Thou hang'st enraptur'd o'er the page 
That give and takes the meed of glory, — 
Feel'st thou a breath that fans thy rage ? 
And does the trembling torch burn pale ? — 
My spirit drinks with thine the tale. 

'• Heai-'st tliou, when silver stars are shining, 

A sound as Eol's harp divine. 
Now the wild wind full chords combining, 

Now softly murm'ring — ' Ever thine !' 
Then careless sleep, — to guard thy peace. 
My watchful spirit ne'er sh^ll cease." 



Observations in JSforth- Wales, ftrqbably nvritten at 
Connvay. 

" Snowdon, Penman-Mawr, and indeed all the 
mountains I have examined in Caernarvonshire, are 
composed of Schistus, the laminae of which, where 
they are found in a state of rest, appear generally to 
rise towards the south-west. In some of the rocks 



MISS smith's lije. 113 

these laminx are intersected at right aogles by veins of 
gypsum. The mountains are perishing fast, owing to 
the position of the strata. In winter the rain lodges in 
the intersections of the stone, and by its expansive force 
in freezing blows off immense masses ; so tliat the sur- 
face of many of the mountains, particularly of Penman- 
Mawr, is nothing but a confused heap of loose stones 
of all possible dimensions. The peaks have disappear- 
ed, and are only to be traced by rocks lying confusedly 
on the tops of mountains, where they evidently must 
formerly have stood erect. Grand as this country is, 
it is but the ruin of its former grandeur. I find no 
marine productions amongst these mountains, and in- 
deed their rough and shaggy forms place tiiem in the 
rank of primary mountains. Neither have I found any 
traces of volcanos. What at first sight might appear 
most like one, is the immense pit at the top of Snow- 
don ; but the stones are untouched by fire, and the 
cavity seems to have been occasioned by water in the 
heart of the mountain undermining its centre ; while 
the peaks, more perfect than any I have seen, though 
covered with ruins, stand round staring at each other, 
and at the lake newly formed at their feet, as if they 
wondered at being exposed to the prying eye of day. 
Vegetation does not cease at the top of Snowdon : sev- 
eral sorts of moss, and lichen, a kind of short grass, 
the gallium fiusillum, and a little thyme, grow even 
to the summit. 

" It is a custom in this country that all those who at- 
tend at a funeral give money to the clergyman, pro- 

10* 



>tl4 MISS smith's life, 

portionate to their rank and fortune, and that of thfi 
deceased. 

" On Whit -Monday, all the country people must be 
up at three or four o'clock in the morning to keep hol- 
iday, on pain of being pulled out of bed and put in the 
stocks by their companions. 

" On Christmas-Day, prayers are read in the 
Churches at four in the morning, and six in the even- 
ing. The church, is very handsomely illuminated ; 
and the people eat gingerbread, drink, and behave 
very riotously, even during the service. 

" What is the meaning of these customs ?" 



In her letters to Dr. Randolph,* Mrs. Smith al- 
ludes to some reflections on the applause of the world, 
which were probably written at an earlier period of 
Miss Smith's life. 

" I have known some very good people maintain in 
theory, and almost all in practice, that we ought to en- 
deavour to gain the good opinion of others. It strikes 
me so far otherwise, that I should think it wrong to 
stir my finger on fiur/iose to gain the good opinion of 
the whole world. Not that I despise it ; I consider 
the esteem of the wise and good as a treasure which 
I should be glad to obtain ; but to obtain by being re- 
ally worthy of it, not by any little fraudulent arts exer- 
cised on purpose to catch it. To be better thought of 

* See Appendix. Letter 11. 



MISS SMITHS LIFE. 115 

than i deserve, is always a reproach ; but the conscious- 
ness of having gained that high opinion by appearing 
in any respect better than I really am, would be to m& 
as insupportable as that of having forged a bank-note- 
in either case I should have made something pass for 
more than it was worth ; I should expect the fraud to 
be some time or other discovered ; and if not, I could 
not enjoy what I had no right to possess. Perhaps 
there is nothing more difficult to guard against tlian 
the desire of being admired, but I am convinced that it 
ought never to be the motive for the most trifling action. 
We should do right because it is the will of God ; if 
the good opinion of others follow our good conduct, we 
should receive it thankfully, as a valuable part of our 
reward ; if not, we should be content without it." 

These sentiments are certainly highly characteristic 
of the writer, for no human being, as Mrs. Smith ob- 
serves, ever seemed to seek the applause of the world 
so little as she did. " The approbation of God and 
her own conscience were the only rewards she ever 
sought." Let me, however, guard ag^iinst her mean- 
ing being misunderstood, by observing, that wishing 
to gain the applause of others is very different from 
■wishing to please them. In the one case we act from 
selfish motives, in the other they may be purely be- 
nevolent. To give pleasure to others by expressions 
of kindness and affection, as well as to set them a good 
example, forms a part of that hiw of kindness which is 
the distinguishing feature of the Christian Religion .j 



116 MISS smith's LIFE. 

but our motive for every action should be duty to God, 
and the desire of pleasing Him ; the applause of our 
fellow-creatures may be the consequence of our con- 
duct> and when it is so, it may be received with grati- 
tude and pleasure ; but our conduct should be precise- 
ly the same in every instance, whether this reward is 
likely to be obtained by it or not. The Christian 
should act on higher motives, and " through evil re- 
port and good report," he should always strive to 
please God. 

At Ballitore, where the family spent nine months, 
Miss Smith had access to a very curious collection of 
books chiefly Greek and Latin ; and I wish to give 
some idea of the use she made of them. A bundle of 
papers found since her death is thus entitled : " Fas- 
ciculus Plantarum rariorum. Discerpts apud Balli- 
tore, vere 1800, alixob pulchritudinem, alias ob odo- 
rem, alix ob curiositatem."* In each paper is the 
name of an author, and some extracts in the original 
languages ; some short, but others of considerable 
length. I am informed that many of the Greek ex- 

* " A collection of curious Plants. Gathered at Ballitore 
in 1800, some for their beauty, some for their sweetness, some 
for their rarity." — Some errors in this Latin sentence as print- 
. ed in the first edition of this work having been noticed (though 
with much candour and liberality) in the Eclectic Review, the 
Editor thinks it necessary to say that the words were original- 
ly written exactly as they are noiu printed. They were writ- 
ten in a small hand, and with a very bad pen, and an ignorant 
transcriber did not observe the diphthongs. 



MISS smith's life. 117 

tracts are taken from a volume containing fragments 
of the minor poets. tJthers are much longer quota- 
tions, from Epictetus, Hesiod, and the Syhiliine Ora- 
cles. The Latin authors are, — Ciceronis specimen ; 
Terentius distillatus ; Grotius de Veritate ; Baconis 
Sermones Fideles ; and Bacon de Augmentis Scientia- 
roni. In English, there is Josephus, on which are 
notes which refer to the whole of his works, both the 
Antiquities and the Wars of the Jews, and it is evident 
that Miss Smith had studied them with attention. 
Asa proof of the indefatigable application with which 
she pursued her studies, I will take this opportunity of 
mentioning some of the papers found after her death i 

A complete Analysis of Homer's Odyssey. 

Extracts from Qiiintiis Curtiue. 

Extracts from Maurice's History of Indostan. 

Extracts from Bruce's Travels. 

Thirteen folio pages, closely written, containing near a thou- 

sand words, written in Hebrew, Arabic, and Persic, to 

shew the resemblance between those languages. 
A great number of Greek words, with their signification. 
A collection of Welsh words. 
A collection of words from Africa, — Mandingo, Foulalii 

Zangay, &.c, 
Explanation of many of the proper names in Scripture. 
A collection of words from the Chinese. 
Explanation of the names of many stars, witli their titles in 

Arabic : and other papers in that language. 



118 MISS smith's life. 

Extracts from Bartholinus, in the Icelandish language: 
An abstract of the contents of the Edda, &,c. &c. 



To account for the trouble which Miss Smith took 
in collecting so many words in different languages, and 
making so many extracts from books, it must be rec- 
ollected that she was often without a home, and de- 
prived of the assistance of dictionaries ; and tliat the 
books from which she derived so much pleasure and 
improvement were not her own, and perhaps for a 
short time only accessible to her. 

After Mrs. Smith returned from Ireland, she resid- 
ed during some months at Patterdale, by the Lake of 
Ulswater, from whence the following little Poem, writ- 
ten by Miss Smith, was sent by her and her sister, 
with a very elegant Irish Poplin, to a friend, whose 
services, though not her afflection, they always greatly 
over-rated. 

« Patterdale, Dec. 8, 1800. 

♦' Were India's choicest treasures ours, 
And did we give them all to thee, 
Yet could not that be call'd a gift. 

Which would not set the debtors free.- 

" For more than worlds to thee we owe. 

Who still hast prov'd our kindest friend ; 
Then add one favour to the past. 
To take the trifle we can send. 



MISS smith's life.-^ 119 

<' To purchase pleasure for ourselves 

Thy bounteous hand a store supply'd ; 
The little part we thus employ 

Has bought us more than all beside." 

» E. S. andC.S.'* 

From Patterdale, Elizabeth writes thus to Miss 
Hunt. 

« March 22, 1801. 
*< You have pei'haps heard of the little farm purchas- 
ed, and the house hired at Coniston, where we are to 
be planted in May. In the mean time we vegetate in 
a very beautiful country ; but this is not the season for 
enjoying it, and other enjoyments we certainly have 
none ; but we look forward to the land of promise, and 
flatter ourselves all will be better in the next house. 

My Father is still in Ireland.* Do you remember, 

Werter says every day he lives amongst the country- 
people he is more delighted with Homer, because he 
finds his account correspond so exactly with nature ? I 
find it the same here. Our neighbours are very little 
advanced beyond the state of civilization described by 
him, and their manners agree surprisingly. I could 
give you many instances of this, and shew you several 
Nestors, if I had the happiness of seeing you here. I 

* Mr. Smith went into the army In the year 1794, soon af- 
ter the misfortune which deprived him of Piercefield, and he 
spent several years in Ireland with his regiment. 



120 MISS smith's life. 

cannot indeed boast of having met with a Hector. 
What is still more astonishing is that the belief in 
ghosts and witches is still in full force. We have 
heard several serious and very recent stories of ghosts 
that have been seen and laid in the neighbourhood ; 
and there is an old Conjurer living close by, who is al- 
ways applied to, and who exerts his power when the 
butter will not come, or when any thing is lost ; beside 
many others of the same trade, in whose incantations 
the poor people believe at least as firmly as they do in 
the Bible. When I come to witchcraft, you will 
think it is time for me to leave off. I obey, intreating 
you to be assured of my most sincere affection." 



The circumstance which gave occasion to the fol- 
lowing reflections, happened exactly as it is here de- 
scribed. 

" Patterdale, Feb. 180^. 

** Alone on the pathless steep I wander'd, 
I sought the foaming' waterfall ; 
And high o'er the torrent's brink I clamber'd. 
Which loud and dreadful roar'd beneath. 

-' At length I came where a winter's streamlet 
Had torn the surface from tlie earth ; 
Its bed was fiU'd with dry shelving gravel. 
Which slid beneatli my hands and feet. 



MI93 SMITH S LIFE. 121 

^' The pebbles roU'd rattling down the steep slope, 
Then dash'd into the dark abyss, 
I follow'd — there was nought to save me. 
Nor bush, nor rock, nor grass, nor moss. 

Then did I tranquilly my life resign ; 

♦ If 'tis the will of God that here 
' I perish, may that will be done !' but sudden 

Across my mind th' idea flash'd — 
' 'Twas not by his command I hither came ; 
' 'Tis I, who wickedly have thrown away 
' That life which He for nobler ends had giv'n.* 
Then, with a deep repentance for my fault. 
And firm reliance on his mighty pow'r, 
I pray'd to him who is, who fills all space, 
* O Lord, deliver me ! I know Thou can'st !* 
Instant I rais'd my eyes, I know not why. 
And saw my sister stand a few yards off; 
SJie seem'd to watch me, but she uld not help. 
Then, as the busy brain oft sees iii sleep, 
I thought she saw me slip into tlie stream. 
And dash rebounding on from rock to rock. 
Swiftly she ran all down the mountain side 
To meet below my mangled lifeless limbs. 
And tatter'd garments. — Life then had value, 
It was worth a struggle, to spare her soul 
That agony. — I pass'd, I know not how. 
The danger ; then look'd up — she was not there, 

11 



122 MISS smith's life. 

Nor had been ! 'Twas perhaps a vision sent 
To save me from destruction. Shall I then 
Say that God does not heed the fate of mortals. 
When not a sparrow falls witliout his will. 
And when He thus has saved a worm like me ? 
So when I totter on the brink of sin. 
May the same mercy save me from the gulph !'* 

On some remarkably sweet tones issuing from the 
wood on the fire, during a very severe frost. 

" Patterdale, January 1801. 

" The storm is past ; the raging wind no more. 
Between the mountains rusliing, sweeps the vale 
Dashing the billows of the troubled lake 
High into air ; — the snowy fleece lies thick ; 
From ev'ry bough, from ev'ry jutting rock 
The crystals hang ; — the torrent's roar has ceas'd, — 
As if that voice which call'd creation forth 
Had said, ' Be still !' All nature stands aghast. 
Suspended by the viewless power of cold. 

" Heap high the fire witii wood, and let the blaze 
With mimic sunshine gild our gloomy room. 
The rising flame now spreads a cheerful ray ; 

We hover round, rejoicing in the heat ; ;>^|j 

The stiflen'd limbs relax, the heart dilates. 
Hark to that sound ! Amid the burning pile 
A voice, as of a silver trumpet, speaks. 



MISS smith's life. \2o 

*' Children of Taste ! Nature's enthusiasts ! 
Ye, -who, with daring pride, attempt to paint 
These awful scenes ; is this an offering* fit 

To gi'eat Ulswater's Genius ? Is it thus 

Ye adore the picturesque, the beautiful ? 

Is this your homage to the dread sublime I 

Oft as ye stray where lofty Stybrow tow'rs, 

Or Glencoin opes her ramparts to the lake. 

Ye view the roots of trees that once have been,— 

The hypocritic tear in ev'ry eye 

Stands trembling, and ye almost curse the man 

Who laid their leafy honours low ; — perhaps 

Some sage reflection follows, on the fate 

Of greatness tumbled from its airy height, — 

Of youth and beauty lopp'd in early bloom, — 

Or else on avarice, that fiend who turns 

The woods to gold, the heart to steel. — Then home 

Ye hie, and feed the fire with those lov'd trees 

Whose fall ye have deplor'd. For this, be sure 
Our sister Dryads ne'er shall spread their arms 
To screen ye from the summer's noon-tide ray ; 
But ere the sun ascends his fiery car, 
Banish'd from these sequester'd glades, far off 
To scorching plains and barren mountains go. 
Where not a bough shall wave to fan the breeze. 
Nor rill shall murmur coolness as it flows. 
Then learn how vain th' excuse—" I did no wrong ; 
1 only shar'd the gain of him who did." 



124 MISS smith's lifeu 

I will here insert reflections on various subjects 
found amongst Miss Smiih's papers, most of which, I 
believe, were written after her return from Ireland. 



" Why are the writings of the ancients, generally 
speaking, superior to those of the moderns ? Because 
paper was scarce. Of course they would think deeply, 
and consider their subject on every side, before they 
would spoil their parchment by writing what on reflec- 
tion might appear not worth preserving. The same 
cause, added to the labour of transcribing, would pre- 
vent copies being multiplied, except of what was real- 
ly valuable. Thus what has come down to our time, 
is only the cream of the writings of the ancients, skim- 
med off by the judgment of their immediate succes- 
sors, and cannot fairly be compared with the general 
mass of modern literature." 



" One of the most common subjects of complaint, 
among those who wish to shew their Avisdom by ar- 
raigning the whole economy of the universe, is the 
inequality in the distribution of the goods of this life. 
It is unfair, say they, that a fool should be surrounded 
with dignities, honours, and affluence, while a wise 
mian perhaps begs at his door. This is a mistake, 
arising, as false opinions generally do, from a too has- 
ty view of the subject. Let the wisdom of the one be 
weighed against the exterior trappings of the other, 



I 

MISS smith's life. 125 

and it will then appear that the wise man has by much 
the greater share of the goods even of this life, wisdom 
being the most valuable gift that God can bestow. It 
may also be proved that he is the happiest. He is of 
course virtuous, for true wisdom is the mother of vir- 
tue, and his wisdom and virtue will teach him to be 
contented with whatever lot the will of God may or- 
dain for him. This is more than the fool in the midst 
of his wealth can ever attain to. He is always pursuing 
some new bauble ; and despising all he possesses in 
comparison with what he wishes to obtain ; and though 
he may riot in what he calls pleasure for a time, he 
never enjoys that inward satisfaction, that sunshine of 
the mind, which alone deserves the name of happiness. 
If, theri, honours, distinctions, and riches, were given 
exclusively to the wise and good, what would become 
of the foolish and the wicked ? They would lose their 
-only enjoyment, and become much more wretched 
than it is possible for a wise man to be under any cir- 
cumstances. At the same time the happiness of the 
■wise would not increase in the same proportion as that 
of the fool diminished ; because his mind being fixed 
on higher objects, he would but lightly regard those 
advantages on which the other sets so high a value. 
The dog eats meat, and delights in all the dainties of 
the table ; but must the sheep therefore complain that 
it has only grass ? It has the best food adapted to its 
nature. Were the dog turned out to graze, he would 
starve." 

11* 



126 MISS SMITH S LIFE. 

" The hand of a friend imparts inestimable value to 
the most trifling token of remembrance ; but a mag- 
nificent present from one unloved is like golden fetters, 
which encumber and restrain not the less for being 
made of costly materials." 



" Humility has been so much recommended, and 
is indeed so truly a christian virtue, that some people 
fancy they cannot be too humble. If they speak of 
humility towards God, they are certainly right ; we 
cannot, by the utmost exertion of our faculties, meas- 
ure the distance between Him and us, nor prostrate 
ourselves too low before Him ; but with regard to our 
fellow-creatures, I think the case is different. Though 
we ought by no means to assume too much, a certaiw 
degree of respect to ourselves is necessary to obtain a 
proportionate degree from otliers. Too low an opin- 
ion of ourselves will also prevent our undertaking what 
we are very able to accomplish, and thus prevent the 
iulfilment of our duty ; for it is our duty to exert the 
powers given us, to the utmost, for good purposes ; 
and how shall we exert powers which we are too hum- 
ble-minded to suppose we possess ? In this particular, 
as in all others, we should constantly aim at discover- 
ing the truth. Though our faculties, both intellectual 
and corporeal, be absolutely nothing compared with 
the Divinity, yet when compared with those of other 
mortals they rise to some relativ^e value, and it should 
be our study to ascertain that value, in order that we 



MISS smith's life, 127 

may employ them to the best advantac^-e ; always re- 
membering that it is better to fix it rather below than 
above the truth" 

« It is very surprising that praise should excite van- 
ity : for if what is said of us be true, it is no more 
than we knew before, and cannot raise us in our own 
esteem ; if it be false, it is surely a most humiliating 
reflection, that we are only admired because we are 
not known ; and that a closer inspection would draw 
forth censure, instead of commendation. Praise can 
hurt only those who have not formed a decided opinion 
of themselves, and who are willing, on the testimony 
of others, to rank themselves higiier than their merits 
wan ant, in the scale of excellency." 

" Pleasure is a rose near which there ever grows 
the thorn of evil. It is wisdom's work so carefully to 
culi the rose, as to avoid the thorn, and let its rich per- 
fume exhale to heaven in grateful adoration of Him 
wno gave the rose to blow." 

" As the sun breaking forth in winter, so is joy in 
the season of affliction. As a shower in the midst of 
summer, so are the salutary drops of sorrow mingled 
in our cup of pleasure." 

" A SUM of happiness sufficient to supply our rea- 
sonable desires for a long time is sometimes condensed 
into a little space, as light is concentrated in the flash. 



t28 MISS smith's life» 

Such moments are given to enable us to guess at the 
joys of heaven." 

" In vain do we attempt to fix our thoughts on hea- 
ven ; the vanities of this world rise like a cloud of dust 
before the eyes of the traveller, and obscure, if not 
totally conceal, the beautiful and boundless prospect of 
the glorious country towards which we are tending." 

" If it were the business of man to make a religion 
for himself, the Deist, the Theophilanthropist, the 
Stoic, or even the Epicurean, might be approved ; but 
this is not the case. We are to believe what God has 
taught us, and to do what he has commanded. All 
other systems are but the reveries of mortals, and not 
religion." 

" The Christian life may be compared to a magnif- 
icent column, whose summit always points to heaven. 
The innocent and therefore real pleasures of this world 
are tiie ornaments on the pedestal ; very beautiful, and 
highly to be enjoyed when the eye is near ; but which 
should not too long or too frequently detain us fiom 
that just distance, where we can contemplate the whole 
column, and where the ornaments on its base 
disappear." 

" The cause of all sin is a deficiency in our love of 
God. If we really loved Him above all things, wc' 



MISS smith's life. 129 

should not be too strongly attached to terrestrial ob- 
jects, and should with pleasure relinquish them all to 
please Him. Unfortunately, while we coniinuc on 
earth, our minds are so much more strongly affected 
by the perceptions of the senses than by abstract ideas, 
that it requires a continual exertion to keep up even 
the remembrance of the invisible world." 

" When I hear of a great and good character falling 
into some heinous crime, I cannot help crying, Lord, 
what am I, that I should be exempt ? O preserve me 
from temptation, or how shall I stand, when so many, 
much my superiors, have fallen ?" 

" Sublimity is something beyond the little circle 
of our comprehension, and whatever within that circle 
approaches the circumference, approaches the sublime. 
The pleasure occasioned by the idea of sublimity seems 
to me to consist in the exertion of the mind, which, 
when violent, overpowers weak minds, as violent exer- 
cise does weak bodies, but makes strong ones feel and 
rejoice in their own energy. Mr. Burke certainly un- 
derstood and felt the sublime ; but I think he would 
have defined it better, if, instead of saying it is occa- 
sioned by terror, he had said, it is something incom- 
prehensible to the mind of man, something which il 
struggles to take in, but cannot ; which exerts all its 
powers, yet baffles them. The instances he brings of 
it would in general agree much better with this idea 



130 MISS smith's life. 

than with that of terror ; as, an extent of space 01"' 
wiiicii the eye sees not the bounds, a degree of dark- 
ness which conceals them, every tiling which occa- 
sions indistinctness and difficulty. The same perpen- 
dicular height gives a move sublime idea to a person 
on the summit than at the base, because the eye can- 
not so easily measure the height." 

" Imagination, like the setting sun, casts a glow- 
ing lustre over the prospect, and lends to every object 
an enchanting brilliancy of colouring ; but when rea- 
son takes the place of imagination, and the sun sinks 
behind the mountain, all fade alike into the night of 
disappointment." 

*' Study is to the mind what exercise is to the 
body ; neither can be active and vigorous without exer- 
tion. Tlierefore if the acquisition of knowledge were 
not an end worthy to be gained, still study would be 
valuable on its own account, as tending to strengthen 
the mind : just as a walk is beneficial to our healthi 
though we have no particular object in view. And 
certainly, for that most humiliating mental disorder, 
the wandering of the thoughts, there is no remedy so 
efficacious as intense study." 

" An hour well spent condemns a life. When we 
reflect on the sum of improvement and delight gained 
in thai single hour, how do the multituae of hours al- 



MISS smith's Life. 1^1 

ready past rise up and say, what good has marked us ? 
Wouldst thou know the true worth of time, emfiloy 
one hour." 



" To read a great deal would be a sure preventive 
of much writing, because almost every one might find 
all he has to say, already written." 



" A woman must have uncommon sweetness of dis- 
position and manners to be forgiven for possessing su- 
perior talents and acquirements." 



" As by weighing a guinea in water, we prove 
whether it be really grjld, so by weighing our o\\x\ fac- 
ulties and attainments with those of the world in gen- 
eral, we may ascertain their real worth. Whatever 
bulk they have gained by the swelling of vanity, so 
much weight will they lose on the trial. No one can 
be convinced how difficult it is to know himself, with- 
out observing the erroneous opinions which others en- 
tertain of themselves ; but having seen how far vanity 
will lead them, we must suspect ourselves." 



" It is not learning that is disliked in women, but 
the ignorance and vanity which generally accompany 
it. A woman's learning is like the fine clothes of an 
upstart, who is anxious to exhibit to all the world the 



\2f2 >tiss smith's life. 

riches so unexpectedly acquired. The learning of a 
man, on the contrary, is like hereditary rank, which 
having grown up with him, and being in a manner in- 
terwoven with his nature, he is almost unconscious of 
possessing it. The reason of this difference is the 
scarcity of the commodity amongst females, which 
makes every one who possesses a little, fancy herself a 
prodigy. As the sum total increases, we may reason- 
ably hope that each will become able to bear her share 
^yith a better grace." 

" Why do so many men return coxcombs from their 
travels ? Because they set out fools. If a man take 
with him even a moderate share of common sense, 
and a desire of improvement, he will find travelling 
the best introduction to an acquaintance with himself* 
and of course the best corrector of vanity ; for if we 
knew ourselves, of what could any of us be vain ? 
Vanity is the fruit of ignorance which thrives most in 
subterranean places, where the air of heaven, and the 
light of the sun, never reach it." 

" Hope without foundation is an igjiis Jatuus, and 
what foundation can we liave for any hope, but that of 
heaven ?" 

" Great actions are so often performed from little 
motives of vanity, self-complacency, and the like, that 
I am more apt to think highly of the person whom I 



MISS smith's life. 13$ 

observe checking a reply to a petulant speech, or even 
submitting to the judgment of another in stirring the 
fire, than of one who gives away thousands." 

^»' To be good and disagreeable is high treason 
against virtue." 

" OuH endeavours to reach perfection are like those 
of Sysiphus to roll the sti||pe up the hill ; we have a 
constant tendency downwSfrds, which we must exert 
all our efforts to counteract." 

" A great genius can render clear and intelligible 
any subject within the compass of human knowledge ; 
therefore what is called a deep book, (too deep to be 
understood,) we may generally conclude to be the pro- 
duce of a shallow understanding." 

" We were placed in this world to learn to be hap- 
py ; that is, so to regulate and employ our passions 
as to make them productive of happiness ; if we do 
not learn this lesson, but on the contrary, make them 
productive of misery, by cultivating and encouraging 
the malevolent, instead of the benevolent affections, 
heaven itself cannot make us happy. For a being ac- 
customed to indulge envy, hatred, and malice, against 
superior excellence, would be in a state of the most 
agonizing torture, if placed in the midst of perfection, 
^vhere every object calculated to inspire love and ad- 
12 



134 MISS smith's life. 

miration, veneration and gratitude, in a well-disposed 
mind, would excite the opposite painful emotions in 
liis." 

" A happy day is worth enjoying ; il exercises the 
soul for heaven. The heart that never tastes of pleas- 
ure, shuts up, grows stiff, and incapable of enjoyment. 
How then shall it enter the realms of bliss ? A cold 
heart can receive no pleasure even there. Happiness 
is the support of virtue ; tlffey should always travel to- 
gether, and they generally do so ; when the heart ex- 
pands to receive the latter, her companion enters of 
course. In some situations, if I ever do right, it is 
mechanically, or in compliance with the deductions of 
reason ; in others, it is from an inward sentiment of 
goodness, from the love of God, and admiration of the 
beauty of virtue. I believe it is impossible to be wick- 
ed and happy at the same time," 

<' When we think of the various miseries of the 
world, it seems as if we ought to mourn continually 
for our fellow-creatures ; and that it is only for want 
of feeling that we indulge in joy for a single moment. 
But when we consider all these apparent evils as dis- 
pensations o£ Providence, tending to correct the cor- 
ruption of our nature, and to fit us for the enjoyment 
of eternal happiness, we can not only look with calm- 
ness on the misfortunes of others, but receive those 
appointed for ourselves with gratitude." 



MISS smith's life. 135 

" Happiness is a very common plant, a native of 
every soil ; yet is some skill required ita gathering it ; 
ior many poisonous weeds look like it, and deceive the 
unwary to tlieir ruin." 

" Courage has been extolled as the first of human 
virtues ; again, it has been considered as the mere 
mechanical eft'ect of blood and spirits. Whence arise 
these opposite opinions ? To answer this question, we 
must trace fear to its origin, i. e. the cradle. We are 
all naturally cowards, as we are gluttons, &c. The 
first passions of children are, a desire of food ; fear, 
when any thing approaches which they fancy may 
hurt them ; and anger, when their inclinations arc 
thwarted. These instincts are wisely implanted, for 
the purpose of self-preservation, not only in the hu- 
man species, but in the wliole animal creation. By 
these we are and must be guided, till reason gain suffi- 
cient strength to rule them. In some this never hap- 
pens, and they are cliildren all their lives ; or rather 
they degrade themselves to brutes, by not using their 
reason for the purpose for which it was given. Since, 
then, fear is natural, courage does not consist in its 
absence, but in its proper regulation by reason ; to 
fear only when there is cause to fear. On this sub- 
ject there will be various opinions. Some think any 
bodily pain or injury a cause of fear, others dread the 
censure or ridicule of the world, Sec. It is the Chris- 
tian alone, who, having his treasure in heaven, can find 
no cause of fear in this world, and who is therefore tiie 



136 MISS smith's life. 

only hero. Others may possess degrees of courage 
sufficient for outside shew, to impose upon the world, 
to be admired, and to be talked of ; but which having 
no better foundation than vanity, emulation, or shame, 
all originally the offspring of fear, will shrink from 
even a small trial, which no eye beholds, because their 
natural timidity having been argued down by only 
Weak and partial reasons, will always recur when those 
reasons fail. Such courage is not a virtue, though 
still, as being an exertion of reason, upon whatever 
principles, it is more respectable than cowardice. It 
is the foundation of religion alone, which exalts cour- 
age to the highest virtue, and at the same time makes 
it universal, as being an universal principle applicable 
to all circumstances." 



In the month of May 1802, Mrs. Blake and Mrs. 
E. Hamilton went to spend the summer near the 
Lakes ; and I had the pleasure of introducing them to 
Mrs. Smith. I take the liberty of inserting some 
short extracts from Mrs. Hamilton's letters, because 
they describe the situation of my friends far better than 
I am capable of doing it. The talents of the writer 
are well known and universally admired. 



« Monk Comston, jlug. 8. 
" Were it possible that your heart could feel a pang 
of envy, it would certainly be excited by the date of 



MISS smith's life. 137 

this letter, which at a glance -will convey to you an 
idea of the happiness I just now enjoy, 

«' You wish me to be particular in my description of 
the place, and of every thing coneerning the dear in- 
habitants, 1 wish 1 could say that the house was com- 
fortable, but in truth it is not. I cannot help wi^.hing 
that a more commodious dwelling could be reared, 
and I am sure that were you to have a sight of this in 
winter you would be of my opinion. The situation is 
indeed enchanting, and during the summer months, in- 
conveniencies within doors are little felt ; but it grieves 
me to be convinced of what they must amount to in 
Decenaber. Mrs. Smi'ih^s spirits still support her. 
Not all the sufferings she has been doomed to ex- 
perience, have had power to destroy the energy of a 
mind that is superior to the niaiice of fortune. Her 
gentle daughters are indeed admirable creatures. 
Their sweet manners, their amiable contentedness, 
and cheerful enjoyment of every blessing which Provi- 
dence has placed within their reach, is truly engaging." 

« Sefit. 2d. 
" I cannot help reproaching myself for having add- 
ed to your anxiety about your deservedly dear friends, 
especially as they seem determined against building 
at present. While they can enjoy their pursuits out 
of doors, the house is of little consequence, as by ex- 
posure to the air the body is fortified to endure damp, 
and this il is which has preserved the health of the 
M'hole family ; but when the weather does not permit 

12* 



J38 MISS smith's life. 

the use of exercise, I fear it must prove injurious. I 
was not sorry that the weather was bad while I was at 
Coniston as it gave so miKh more time for conversa- 
tion, and every hour endeared the whole family to me 
more and more." 

« Oct, 25. 
" I spent a few delightful hours with Mrs. Smith, 
whose society I preferred to all the beauties of the 
Lake, across which my Sister was conducted by the 
jYijmphs, who in tlie days of Paganism would have 
been worshipped as beings of a superior order, so ele- 
gantly graceful do they appear, when with easy motion 
they guide their light boat over the waves. After hav- 
ing seen all this country, I consider Coniston as the 
most eligible spot they could possibly have fixed on. 
I have no doubt that with their judicious plan of culti- 
vation the land will, in three years time, double its 
value. The situation is uncommonly beautiful. The 
scenery is such as to charm every mind that is suscep- 
tible of the emotions of sublimity or beauty. Its re- 
moteness from what is called good neighbourhood is 
another great advantage, for there they can preserve 
the dignity of retirement. Their present house is cer- 
tainly damp, but the soil is very dry, and houses prop- 
erly built are liable to no such inconvenience." 



<f Edinburgh, Dec. 13. 
" We began to feel the want of society at Bowness, 
and were on that account doubly obliged to cur dear 



MISS smith's life. 139 

Coniston friends, for a most kind and welcome visit of 
the young ladies. Mrs. Smith, to our great regret, 
was not well enough to come, as the Lake, which is in 
summer so agreeable, presents in winter a fonnidable 
barrier, on account of the extreme cold, I never before 
saw so much of Miss Smith, and in the three days 
she spent with us, the admiration wl.ich I had always 
felt for her extraordinary talents, and as extraordinary 
virtues, was hourly augmented. She is indeed a most 
charming creature, and if one could inoculate her with 
a little of the Scotch frankness, I think she would be 
one of the most perfect of human beings."* 



* I take the hberty of adding an extract from a letter lately 
received from Mrs. E. Hamilton. 

Edinburgh, March 11, 1809. 
" I cannot but be hig-hly flattered by your expressing' a wish 
to insei't in the Fragments some passages from my letters 
which related to the ever beloved and I'egretted Miss Smith, 
for be assured no circumstance could he more gratifying to 
my feelings than to be permitted to add my mite to the tribute 
paid to her memory ; but it was not on a first acquaintance 
that her extraordinary qualities were to be appreciated. She 
did not emit those brilliant flashes which dazzle the imagina- 
tion ; and so superior were the native graces of her mind to 
the ornaments which embellished it, that acquirements which 
in others would have been admired as astonishing, were in her 
sometimes almost unobserved. To those who had been ac- 
customed to contemplate the possessor of genius or learning 
raised upon the pedestal of vanity, and extorting the homage 
of applause from all beholders, the simphcity, to which alios- 



149 MISS smith's Liyt. 

In the year 1803, IVIr. Sotheby, the elegant transla- 
tor of Obcron, expressed to me a wish that Miss 
Smith's uncommon talents should be employed in 
somethinsj which might interest the public ; particu- 
larly in translations from the German. He scarcely 
could credit what I said of the facility with which she 
translated from that very difficult language ; and taking 
down Gesner's works, which was the only German 
book in my possession, he turned to one of the Idylls, 
and requested me to ask her to translate it. I believe 
she had never read it, and I know she had no diction- 
ary ; but I told her that Mr. Sotheby had commended 
the poem highly, and I wished she would make me 
understand it. The next morning she brought me 
the following. 



A riciure of the Deluge. 

" The marble towers were already deep buried be- 
neath the flcodj and dark waves already rolled over the 



tentatious display was abhorrent, would have appeared as a 
defect, and therefore it is not surprising tliat her merit should 
have been sometimes overlooked. But whoever compared it 
with a higher standard than that of the world, must have been 
sensible of its near approach to perfection, and while they be- 
stowed on her character the admiration so justly due, they 
would be led to reflect with gratitude that the model on which 
all her virtues were formed, is within the reach of all who 
with equal sincerity endeavour to mould themselves to its 
likeness." 



MISS smith's life. Hi 

mountain tops ; one lofty summit stood alone above 
the waters. Its sides resounded with the mingled 
cries of wretches who attempted to ascend, and whom 
death followed on the das'ing- wuve. Here, a crag, 
rent from the mountain, fell with its burthen of helpless 
mortals into the foaming flood ; there, the wild stream 
of a torrent hurried down tlic son, as he was dragging 
up his dying father, or the despairing mother with the 
load of her children. Only the -highest summit now 
remained above the deluge. 

" Semin, a noble youth, to whom the most noble of 
maidens had sworn eternal love, had saved his beloved 
Semira on the summit. All else were dead. They 
stood alone in the howling storm ; the waves dash'd 
over them. Above them growl'd the thunder, and be- 
neath roar'd the furious ocean. Darkness reign'd 
around, save when the lightning shew'd the horrid 
scene. Each cloud's dark brow threaten'd vengeance, 
and each wave roll'd on a thousand corses ; it roU'd on 
with fury, seeking for more destruction. — Semira 
press'd her beloved to her trembling heart ; tears ran 
with the rain-drops down her faded cheeks. She 
spoke with a faltering voice. — 

" There is no more safety, O my beloved ! my Se- 
min ! Death surrounds us. O destruction ! O mise- 
ry ! Death comes every moment nearer. Which of 
those waves, oh, which will overwhelm us I Hold me, 
hold me in thy trembling arms, O my beloved ! Soon, 
soon shall I, shalt thou, be no more ; swallowed up in 
the universal destruction. Now, — O God ! yonder it 



142 MISS smith's life. 

rolls. How dreadful ! It rolls yet nearer, illumined 
by the light?iing Now, — O God ! our Judge !" she 
said, and sunk on Seniin. His trembUng arm sur- 
rounded his fiiinting love. No voice breathed from 
his quivering lips. He saw destruction no longer ; he 
saw only the fainling Semira leaning on his bosom, 
and ftlt more than the chili of death. Now he kiss'd 
her pale cheek, wet with the chilling rain ; he press'd 
her closer to his breast, and said, ' Semira, beloved 
Semira, wake I Oh, yet return to this scene of hor- 
ror, that thiiie eyes may look on me once more ; that 
thy pale lips may once more tell me that thou lov'st 
me even in death, yet once more, ere the flood o'er- 
whelm us both !' He said, and she awoke. She 
look'd on him with an eye full of tenderness and inex- 
pressible sorrow, — then on the wide scene of desola- 
tion. " O God, our Judge 1" she cried, '^ is there no 
protection, is there no pity for us ? O how the waves 
dash, how the thunder roars around us ! What terrors 
announce the impropitiated judgment. O God ! our 
years flowed on in innocence. Thou, the most virtu- 
ous of youths ! — Woe, woe is me ! They are all 
gone ; they who adorn'd my life with the flowers of 
joy are all gone !— And thou who gavest me life, — O 
agonizing sight ! the wave tore thee from my side. 
Yet once didst thou raise thy head and thine arms ; 
thou wouldst have blest me, and wert overwhelm'd. 
O they are all gone — and yet — O Semin, Semin ; 
beside thee ttie lonely desolated world would be to me 
a Paradise. Our youthful years flow'd on in inno- 



MISS smith's life. 143 

cence. Oh, is there no salvation, no mfercy ? Yet 
why does my afflicted heart complain ? O God, for- 
give ! We die. What is the innocence of man in 
thy sight ?" The youth supported his beloved as she 
trembled in the storm, and said, ' Yes, my beloved, life 
is banish'd from tiie earth ; the voice of the dying no 
more is heard amidst the roaring of the ocean. O Se- 
Hiira, my dearest Semira, the next moment will be our 
last i Yes, they are gone, the hopes of this life are 
all gone ; every pleasing prospect that we imagined in 
the enraptured hours of our love, is vanished. We die ; 
— but O let us not await the universal doom like those 
who have no hope ; and O my beloved, what is the 
longest, the happiest life ? A dew-drop that hangs 
from the jutting rock, and before the morning sun, 
falls into the sea.^Raise up thy drooping spirit. — Be- 
yond this life is peace and eternity. Let us not tremble 
now as we pass over. Embrace me, and so let us await 
our destiny. Soon, my Semira, soon shall our souls 
rise above this desolation ; full of feelings of inexpres- 
sible happiness shall they arise. O God, hope fills 
my soul with courage. Yes, Semira, let us lift up 
our hands to God. Shall a mortal adjust His balance ? 
He who breath'd into us the breath of life ; He sends 
death to the righteous, and to the unrighteous ; but 
well is it for him who hath walked in the path of vir- 
tue. We pray not for life, O righteous Judge I Take 
U3 from hence ; but oh, invigorate the hope, the sweet 
hope of inexpressible happiness, which death shall no 
more disturb. — Then roll, ye thunders, and rage, thou 



144 MISS smith's life. 

ocean ; dash over us, ye waves ! Praised be the righ- 
teous Judge, praised ! Let this be the last thought of 
our soul in the dying body.' — Courage and joy anima- 
ted the face of Semira. She rais'd her hands in the 
storm, and said, " Yes, I feel the delightful, the glo- 
rious hope 1 Praise the Lord, O my tongue, weep 
tears of joy, my eyes, till death shall close ye. A 
heaven filled with happiness awaits us. Ye are all 
gone before, ye beloved ! We come. Soon, O soon 
we shall again behold you ! They stand before His 
throne, the Righteous One's ; He has gathered them 
together from his judgment. Roar, ye thunders ; 
rage, destruction ; ye are hymns of praise to his righ- 
teousness. Roll over us, ye waves. See, my beloved ! 
— Embrace me — -yonder it comes ; death comes on 
yon dark wave. Embrace me, Semin ; leave me not. 
O already the flood uplifts me from the earth." — < I 
embrace thee Semira,' said the youth. ' I embrace 
thee ! O death, thou art welcome. We are prepared. 
Praised be the eternal Just One !' — The next wave 
found them lock'd in each other's arms : the succeed- 
ing found them not !" 



Mr. Sotheby was extremely pleased with this trans- 
lation, and his encouragement and kind assistance led 
me to engage my beloved friend in a work, which em- 
ployed much of her time and attention, and in which 
she took particular pleasure ; till her last fatal illness 
put an end to her pursuits and to all our earthly hopes 



MISS smith's Life. 145 

in regard to her. The work to which I allude, is a 
translation of Letters and Memoirs relating to Mr. 
and Mrs. Klopstock. The interest which was awaken- 
ed by Mrs. Klopstock's letters, lately published in the 
Correspondence of Mr. Richardson, led me to suppose 
that authentic information with regard to that amiable 
woman would be well received by the public ; and the 
kindness of the venerable Dr. Mumssen, of Altona, 
who had been the intimate friend of Klopstock, sup- 
plied me with many letters and other works in prose 
and verse, which Miss Smith translated. I will here 
insert some extracts from letters, which were sent to 
me with different parts of this little work, the materi- 
als for which were received by me, and forwarded to 
her at different times. 



<' Coniston, JVoveiJiber 9, 1804. 

« My Mother has, I hope, told you, my dearest 
■friend, that Mr. Sotheby's book arrived the day before 
she left home, which was as soon as I could do any 
good with it. My mother and I were so comfortable 
together, that I did not attempt to do any thing, except 
translating the little Ode to Bodmer one night after 
she was gone to bed. I shall now have a clear week 
between her going and my Sister's coining, and that 
will be sufficient to do all you want. But I ought to 
tell you what I have got, that you may explain your 
wishes more fully. The two volumes contain a series 
of Odes arranged in chronological order from 1747 to 
13 



146 MISS smith's life, 

1797, published by Klopstock himself in 1798. Mr. 
Sotheby's book contains some of the same odes, with 
a few others ; some pieces of prose, most of which 
seem to have been written for the Northern Spectator ; 
and his letters to his wife after her death. This book 
was published in 1771. The Preface contains an ex- 
tract from a letter of Bodmer's, giving a very interest- 
ing account of Klopstock when a boy, and of his first 
reading Milton. Would you wish to have that ? 
There is nothing in this volume which can have been 
written by Meta, except a dialogue between Klopstock 
and her on the subject of Fame. In an Ode to 
Schmidt her death is mentioned with great feeling. I 
have translated this, with all the other pieces just men- 
tioned, and if you want only what relates to her, this 
js all that Mr. Sotheby's book can supply, except a let- 
ter on the fashions, to the Northern Spectator, in 
which she is mentioned as an example, I think you 
should publish that for the good of your neighbours. 
I come now to the Odes. They are six addressed to, 
or relating to, his wife, under the name of Cidli. 
These are done, and so is the Ode to God, because 
you desired it ; but I think you must be mistaken in 
supposing it related to his wife, because it was written 
in 1748, which, according to her letters to Richardson^ 
was three years before he ever saw her. He probably 
meant Fanny the sister of his friend Schmidt, to whom 
he addressed several poems in the same year. This is 
all I can find for you that in any way concerns Mrs. 
Klopstock, and now I want to know whether you wish 



MISS smith's life. 147 

for any more. There is a long and fine Ode to the 
Omnipresent, written in 1758, probably soon after her 
death, in which she is not mentioned, but it shews the 
turn that his mind had taken. There are also several 
others of a religious cast in the year following. I shall 
go on with these till my Sister's return, and then 
shall wait your orders to send what you choose. I can- 
not conclude without thanking you most heartily for 
the employment. I am so delighted with Klopstock, 
that I feel very glad of an excuse to give up my whole 
time and thoughts to him. As to the Dictionary, I 
am sorry to have troubled Mr. Sotheby, for I have not 
yet found any use for it. The English often runs so 
naturally in the same course with the German, that I 
have nothing to do but to write it down. Perhaps you 
will be kind enough to mention any thing you dislike ; 
then if it be Klopstock's fault, you must be content ; if 
mine, it shall be corrected with thankfulness. 

" P. S. I have just found two more Odes written 
in 1750, in which I had not observed the name of 
Cidli. One is on the death of Clarissa. They shall 
be done immediately. 

" JVovember 25. 
" A thousand thanks for your letter, which I hope 
to find space to answer in the sheet which is to be dis- 
patched on the next post-day. You have now got all 
that relates to Meta. I think you will find some of the 
prose tedious, but I will send it, and then you will 
judge for yourself There is a life of Klopstock in the 



148 MISS smith's life. 

new edition of his works ; but whether it contain ma- 
ny interesting- particulars, is more than I know. 

" That you may not suspect me of arrogance in say- 
ing that I made no use of the Dictionary, I must tell 
you that the difficulty of Klopstock's Odes (for difficult 
many of them certainly are) does not consist in hard 
words, but in the wide range of ideas, and the depth of 
thought, which he has expressed in very concise lan- 
guage ; of course, often bordering on obscurity, but 
such obscurity as no dictionary has power to dissipate. 
On the contrary, in translating the prose, I have seve- 
ral times had occasion to consult it for names of things 
in common use, which never occur in poetry, and it 
has not always afforded the information I wanted- 
There are some words for which I am still at a loss, 
■which I send in German, in hopes that Miss Hunt 
can explain them. If you imagine me making rapid 
progress, you are totally mistaken. Since my sisters 
and Bedford* came home, my perfect stillness is at 
an end ; and my brains being of that kind which re- 
quires the aid of outward composure, it is not without 
difficulty that I can now translate the prose, and the 
poetry I do not think of attempting. The present 
sheet is all I have translated since their return, though 
I have still some left of what I had done before. I fear 
jt will be so long before all our materials are collected, 
that the subject will be forgotten in the world. Never, 
I intreat you, think of thanking me ; but be assured 

* Third son of Mr. Smith, now in the 6th dragoon-guards- 



MISS smith's life. 149 

that if I can do any tiling to amuse you, whether it be 
of any farther use, or not, the pleasure of doing so is 
to me an ample reward." 

" December 22. 

" Last night arrived your parcel, — your little parcel 
of great treasures. The letters between Klopstock 
and liis wife are highly interesting to those who know 
and love them as we do, and Mrs. Klopstock's letters 
from the dead to the living, as well as many of the let- 
ters of their friends written after her death, will, I am 
sure, delight you. 

" You put a dash under nvarrn bed-chaml)er, as if 
you thought we could not give you one ; it is there- 
fore my duty to tell you, that it is the warmest and 
best thing we have ; and that if it xeere possible to 
transport you hither, we should not despair of making 
you comfortable, even in the depth of winter ; nor of 
hearing you admire our mountains every time the sun 
shone. In fact, their present colouring is so rich, and 
the small elevation of the sun above the horizon is so 
favourable to the lights and shadows, that when a gleam 
does dart across the valley, it is, in a painter's eye? 
more beautiful than in summer. The mountains in 
the back-ground are covered with snow, but we have 
only a little sprinkling on the top of our highest neigh- 
bour. I hope too, you would not here be so often 
♦ sick at heart' as you are at Bath, and always must be, 
till you learn, what you never will learn, to care for no- 
body but yourself. We expected Miss Hunt would 

1 J* 



J 50 MISS smith's life. 

have some influence in keeping you quiet, by making 
you happy at home ; but it seems even her power is 
not sufficient. Give my kind love to her. Louis* 
is at home for the holidays. He and Bedford are 
very grateful for your kind remembrance. As to your 
own children, I need not waste paper in telling you 
liow much they love you." 

" March 22, 1805. 
" A small box will be dispatched to-morrow con- 
taining a translation of all the prose in Mr. Sotheby's 
book, and of Mrs. Klopstock's letters fiom the dead to 
the living. Thinking that you would be curious to 
know at least the subject of the " Ode to Fanny," I 
have attempted an imitation, though as Mrs. Lindegren 
says, it is beyond the power of translation. By way of 
preface to the whole, I have sent " The Poem's com- 
plaint," that you may see what poor Klopstock would 
say to me if he could. Mr. Sotheby's book and the 
letters I return with thanks. If you wish to have 
Mr. Klopstock's unfinished tragedy of " The Death 
of Abel," it shall be done, or any thing else that 
you bid me to do. I fear you will find some Ger- 
man sticking to the translation, which I have not 
been able to rub off. I have added some of ray Sun- 
day v/ork,t for your private amusement. You are 
so well acquainted with the subject, and have the 

* The youngest son ; now in the Navy, 
\ Translations of some of the Ps.ilms. 



MISS smith's life. 151 

power of consulting so many books, that you will 
probably know I am mistaken in many instances, and 
you will highly oblige me by telling me so. Where 
I may be right, it is often no more than a lucky guess, 
and guesses must sometimes prove erroneous. At 
the bottom of the box you will find a few transparen- 
cies done by Kitty and me for your shew-box.* TuR- 
piN sends her duty ; if she durst, I believe it would 

be her love.f How we wish that Coniston were 

Middle-Hill just now I I do not mean that Coniston 
should be any thing but what it is, only that it should 
be as easy for you to get at it. ^Ve should make you 
well directly, brace up your nerves with our clear air, 
delight your eyes with our prospects, and make you 
feel so happy, that you would scarcely believe that 
you ever had felt otherwise ; and then how happy 
should ive be !" 

" J/iril 16. 
" Your gratitude to me, dearest friend, is like Tur- 
tin's duty to you, rejected because you owe none. 
The employment has been very delightful to me. I 

* At Patterdale and Coniston, Miss Smith and her sisters 
found much employment for the pencil, and I am in possession 
of a beautiful set of transparencies, from scenes in that coun- 
try, -which prove how well they employed it. Elizabeth 
discovered a method of clearing- the lights with wax, instead 
of oil or varnish, which I think answers perfectly well. 

f The faithful servant mentioned by Mrs. Smith. See 
Appendix : Letter III. 



152 MISS smith's life. 

could not have got through the winter without some- 
thing to engage my thoughts, to fix my attention ; 
and I could hardly have found any thing that would 
do this more agreeably than the Klopstocks : yet I 
should have wanted a sufficient motive for spending so 
much time on them, had not you supplied one in the 
pleasure of doing amj t/mig for you. You have provid- 
ed both the subject and the motive for action ; and 
thus on this, as on all other occasions, I am highly in- 
debted to you. I have now sent all that was wanting 
of the little volume, except some of the letters of their 
friends, which seem to throw no particular light on the 
subject, and are only interesting as they shew how 
much the Klopstocks were beloved. If you find this 
packet more incorrect than the former, do not think 
that I am tired of the work ; I was only very much 
hurried to get all done in time for my Mother's box, 
so much as not to be able to read it over, after it was 
written, to see whether the stops had happened to fall 
in the right place. Mr. Satche's speech was never 
touched till within the two last hours. Of course I 
•was obliged to send the foul coi^y unread ; but it is the 
facts only that you want, and those you have got ; no 
matter in what language, if you can but read it. All 
you desired me to do, is, I think, now sent. I do not 
"Wonder you are disappointed in Klopstock's prose : it 
seemed to me in general dull. His wife, I think, writes 
with more ease. I iho.ight it was best to give you every 
thing, and leave you to tveed for yourself. I have ac- 
cordingly been as faithful as I could. You must xtcor\- 



MISS smith's life. 153 

cile yourself to Fanny. I rather think that Klopstock 
was more in love with her than even with your fa- 
vourite Meta ; at least the odes which reiate to her 
appear to me to be the finest. His second wife was a 
blessing sent by heaven, to make him endure existence 
for the good of the human race. Do not blame him 
for having been fortunule enough, at very different pe- 
riods of his life, to meet with three such women. In 
truth, he is so great a favourite of mine, that I would 
gladly excuse him at any rate. 

" I never read Peters on Job, nor any thing about 
the Hebrew language, except the book of Dr. Kenni- 
cott's which you lent me, and Lowth's Prselections. 
Parkhurst has been my only guide, but I fancy he is a 
very good one." 



I afterwards received from Dr. Mumssen and Mrs. 
Klopstock other letters and papers, which delayed our 
intetided publication. Some of these were translated 
by Miss Smith, but others did not arrive till she was 
too ill to attend to them. 

As a specimen of Miss Smith's translations from 
the Hebrew Bible, I insert Jonah's prayer, and the last 
chapter of Habakkuk. I do not presume to form any 
judgment with regard to these translations ; but they 
were shewn to a gentleman who is well acquainted 
with the language, and who was requested to give his 
opinion of them. He said that the author had certain- 
ly an extraordinary knowledge of Hebrew ; that he 



154 Miss smith's life. 

thought him rather too free for a biblical translator, 
but he shewed great acquaintance with the language, 
as well as a refined taste, and that many of his conjec- 
tures were eminently happy. Tl.is opinion was 

formed entirely from a critical exiimination of the 
Work, without any knowledge of the author ; whose 
acquaintance with the language would certainly have 
appeared much more extraordinary, had this Gentleman 
known lliat these translations, and many others from 
the same sacred book, were the work of a Young Lady 
"who never received any instruction with regard to the 
Hebrew language from any person whatever. She had 
no idea of ever offering them to the public, and it is 
now done principally to shew with what attention she 
pursued this most interesting of all studies, and how 
well she adhered to the resolution she had formed, to 
let the word of God be her chief study, and all others 
subservient to it. She translated some chapters in 
Genesis, the whole book of Job, many of the Psalms, 
some parts of the Prophets, &c. She spent some 
time with me in the year 1803, when she brought me 
lier translation of Job, and many observations on diffe- 
rent parts of the Old Testament. We had much con- 
versation on such subjects, from which I always deri- 
ved information as well as delight. She had shewn 
me her translation of the eleventh chapter of Genesis, 
in the year 1797, when she was only twenty years old ; 
and as it differs considerably from that in the English 
Bible, I requested a friend to shew it to Mrs, Carter, 
who said that the idea was new to her, but she thought 



MISS smith's life. 155 

the words bear that interpretation. I was afterwards 
informed that Sir William Jones had given the same 
interpretation to that chapter. I do not know wheth- 
er it is mentioned in the works of that great man, from 
which Miss Smith afterwards derived much informa- 
tion, and of which she always spoke with enthusiastic 
admiration ; but they were not then published. 



« JONAH'S PRAYER. 

" Chap, ii, V. 2. 

" I call on Jehovah from my prison. 

And he will hear me : 

From the womb of the grave I cry, 

Thou hearest my voice. 

Thou hast cast me into wide waters in the depth of the sea. 

And the floods surround me ; 

All thy dashing and thy rolling waves 

Pass over me. 

And I said I am expelled 

From before thine eyes ; 

O that I might once more behold 

Thy holy temple ! 

The waters on every side threaten my life, 

The deep surrounds me ; 

Sea-weed is the *binding of my head : 

* " The binding of the hesd v/as a preparation for bnrial. 



156 MISS smith's life.- 

I am ^olng' down to the clefts of the mountains. 

The earth has shut her bars 

Behind me for ever. 

But thou wilt raise my soul from corruption, 

Jehovah, my God ! 

In the fading away of my life 

I think upon Jehovah ; 

And my prayer shall come unto Thee, 

In thy holy temple. 

They who serve false gods 

Forsake the fountain of mercy ; 

But I with the voice of praise 

Will sacrifice to Thee. 

What I have vowed I will perform, 

Salvation is Jehovah's !" 

" HABAKKUK. 

*' The two first chapters of Habakkuk contain a 
prophecy of the invasion of Judea by the Chaldeans, 
and of the vengeance which God will take on them for 
the evils they inflict on his people, whom He promises 
He will not utterly forsake ; " for the earth shall be 
filled with the knowledge of the glory of the Lord, as 
the waters cover the sea ;" referring to the eleventh 
chapter of Isaiah, which contains a clear prediction of 
the Messiah. The third chapter is an ode, apparently 
intended to be sung by two persons, or two companies. 
No. I. representing the Prophet foretelling what is to 
happen to the Jews. No. II. some one recounting the 



MISS smith's life. ys^t. 

great works and deliverances already performed by 
God, as reasons for trusting that He will again deliver 
his people. In the conclusion both parts join in a cho- 
rus of praise. 

" The ^rst division is a prediction of the coming of 
Christ. It is answered by a description of God's ac- 
tual appearance on Mount Sinai. 

" The second tells of evils impending on some 
neighbouring nations. Answered by an account of the 
deluge, when the ark was saved upon the waves, 

" The third, a threat of vengeance on the enemies of 
God. Answered by the judgments inflicted on 
Egypt, when the Israelites were brought out in safety. 

" The fourth refers immediately to the threatened 
invasion by the Chaldeans. The answer is plain : I 
will yet trust in the Lord, who will at length deliver 
me from my enemies. 

" The whole concludes with a chorus of pi'aise." 



14 



158 MISS smith's life. 

«A SONG IN PARTS,* 

" By Habakkuk the Prophet, 
"UPON JUDGMENT, OH MAGNIFICENT WORKS. 

I. 

"Jehovah! I have heard thy report, 

f I have seen, Jehovah ! thy work. 

In the midst of years Thou wilt cause hhn to live. 

In the midst of years thou wilt give knowledge. 

In trembling Thou wilt cause to remember mercy. 

II. 
" The Almighty came from the south, 
And the Holy One from Mount Paran. Selah, 

His glory covered the heavens. 
And his splendour filled the earth. 
And the brightness was as the light ; 
Rays darted from his hands. 
And from the |cloud, the abode of his power. 
Before Him went the pestilence. 
And glowing fire cime forth from his feet. 
He stood, and measured the earth. 
He beheld, and explored the nations. 

* " A Song in Parts :" may not '"nVfln, of which the meau- 
ing is, " division," " coming between," &,c. mean " a divided 
piece," " a dialogue •" 

t <mNT for ipNT Qu. ? 

\ " The cloud which accompanied the appearance of Jeho- 
vah. 



MISS smith's life. '*5^ 

And the dui*able mountains burst asunder. 
The ancient hills fell down. 
His paths in days of old. 

I. 
" I have seen the tents of Cushan under affliction, 
The curtains of the land of Midian shake. 

II. 

" Was Jehovah incensed in the floods ? 

Truly in the floods was thy wrath. 

Verily in the water thy fury ; •" 

But Thou madest thy chariot of salvation to ride on the swift 

ones. 
Then didst Thou set to view thy bow, 
The pledge to the tribes for thy word. Selah. 

The floods ploughed vallies in the earth ; 
The mountains saw Thee, they travailed, 
Torre its of water gushed forth. 
The abyss uttered his voice. 
The sun lift up his hands on high. 
The moon stopped in her mansion, 
At the brightness of thy flying arrows. 
At the lightning of thy flashing spear. 

I. 
'* In indignation Thou wilt tread the earth. 
In fui-y Thou wilt stamp the nations. 

II. 
" Thou wentest forth for tlie salvation of thy people, 
The salvation of tliine anointed. 



160 MISS smith's life, 

Thou didst cut off the first-born from the house of the wlckeii. 

Thou didst provoke the stubborn to bending'. Selah. 

Thou didst strike the fountain with his rod, 

*They were scatter'd, fthey carae forth like a whirlwind. 

To destroy their flourishing' crops, 

While the food of the oppressed was in safety. 

Thou didst walk thy horses throug'h the sea. 

Troubling the great waters. 

I. 

" I heard, and my bowels were moved. 
At the sound my lips quivered. 
Rottenness entered into my bones. 
And they trembled beneath me ; 
While I groaned for the day of tribulation^ 
The coming up of the people to assault us. 

II. 
" Though the fig-tree do not blossom. 
And there be no fruit on the vine ; 
Though the produce of the olive fail. 
And tlie parched field yield no food ; 
Though the flock be cut off from the fold, 
And there be no cattle in the stalls ; 
Yet I will rejoice in Jehovah, 
I will exult in God, my Saviour. 



Tlie frogs scattered over the land, 
t " The flies, locusts, &c. 



wiss smith's life. 161 

CHORUS. 

" Jehovah my Lord is my strength, 
He will set my feet as the deer's, 
He will make me to walk on high places." 

" To the Conqueror of my Assailants ; 

or. 

To him who causeth me to triumph in my afflicUons." 



Continual study of the Hebrew poetry probably suj 
gested this Hymn ; which is dated Feb. 18, 1803. 

" O THOU ! who commandest the storm, 
And stillest its rage with a word ; 
Who dark'nest the earth with thy clouds. 
And call'st forth the sun in his strength ; 
Who hurlest the proud from his throne, 
And liftest the poor from the dust ; 
Who sendest afflictions for good. 
And blessings at times for a curse ; 
Whose ways are impervious to man. 
Whose decrees we've no power to withstand ;— - 
Thou hast plac'd me in poverty's vale. 
Yet giv'n me contentment and bliss. 
Should'st Thou e'er set me up on the hill, 
O let not my heart be elate ; 
But humility ever abide. 
And gratitude rule in my breast ; 
14* 



163 MISS SMITH S LIFE. 

Let me feel for the woes of the poor. 

Which now I've no power to relieve, 

Let compassion not end with a tear. 

But charity work for thy sake ; 

And the streams of beneficence fall, 

Enriching tlie valley beneath ; 

Then though Thou should'st wrap me in clouds, 

And threaten the hill with a storm j 

Yet the sun-shine of peoce shall break forth, 

And the summit reflect its last ray." 



I am not sure that the following reflections are orig- 
inal. They may perhaps be translated from the Ger- 
man ; but the sentiments with regard to the Aveakness 
of human reason, and the absolute necessity of divine 
assistance would certainly please Miss Smith, as they 
are perfectly in unison with her own ideas. 

" It is declared in the Scriptures that the natural 
man knoweth not the things of God, neither can he 
comprehend them ; and I am convinced that this is 
true. God only requires the heart and its affections, 
and after ti^ose are wholly devoted to Him, He him- 
self worketh all things within it and for it. ' My 
son, give me thy heart ;' and all the rest is conformity 
and obedience. This is the simple ground of all reli- 
gion, which implies a re-union of the soul to a princi- 
ple which it had lost in its corrupt and fallen state. 
Mankind have opposed this doctrine, because it has a 
direct tendency to lay very low the pride and elevation 



MISS smith's life. 163 

of the heart, and the perverseness of the will, and pre- 
scribes a severe mortification to the passions ; it will 
be found, notwithstanding, either in time or eternity, a 
most important truth. 

" In the Holy Scriptures nothing appears to have a 
reference to the great work of salvation, but a rectitude 
of the heart, and subjection of the will ; and it is clear 
to my understanding that it should be so : for the 
mere operations of the head, the lucubrations of reason 
on divine subjects, are as different as men. The nat- 
ural powers of man may be sanctified by the influences 
of religion in the soul, and cease from opposition in 
matters wherein formerly they took supreme direction ; 
but until they are in awful silence before God, the 
work of redemption is unfelt and unknown. 

" Religion is an universal concern ; the only im- 
portant business of our lives. The learned and the 
ignorant are equally the object of it ; and it is highly 
becoming the Father of Spirits, the friend of man, that 
all the spirits vvhich He has made, should be equal can- 
didates for his regard ; that his mercy should operate 
vipon a principle, of which mankind are equal partakers. 
If the reason of the understanding were alone capable 
of religious discernment, nine-tenths of the world 
would be excluded from bis providence ; but not so 
does his mercy operate. He influences by love, and 
the affections are the only objects of it. 



164 MISS smith's life. 

" Look into the opinions of men, contemplate their 
great diversity, their complete opposition to each oth- 
er ; and where shall the serious, the reflecting mind 
find a peaceful station to rest upon ? Where shall it 
find ' the shadow of a mighty rock, in a weary land,' 
of fluctuating devices and tempests of opinion ? Not in 
human literature, not in the inventions of men ; but in 
silence before the God of our lives, in pure devotion of 
the heart, and in prostration of the soul. The knee 
bends before the majesty of Omnipotence, and all the 
powers of the mind say, Amen ! — In matters so im- 
portant as pure religion, the salvation of the immortal 
soul, it is highly worthy of Divine Wisdom that He 
should take the supreme direction to Himself alone, 
and not leave any part of the work to the device of 
man ; for it is evident to every candid enquirer, that 
whenever he interferes he spoils it. Religion is of so 
pure and spotless a nature, that a touch will contami- 
nate it. It is uniform, consistent, and of the same 
complexion and character in all nations. Languages 
and customs may greatly differ ; but the language of 
pure devotion of the heart to its Maker is one and the 
same over the face of the whole earth. It is acknowl- 
edged and felt ' through the unity of the spirit, in the 
bond of peace.' There is a harmony and consistency 
in the works of God, external and internal ; the exter- 
nal operations of nature are strictly typical of internal 
things ; the visible of the invisible world. 

" I AM convinced that the Author of our being has 
left nothing to man -with respect to the formation of 



3IISS smith's life. 165. 

veligion in the mind of a child, but the opening his 
path, and clearing his road from the thorns and briars 
of contagious example. The influences of man con- 
sist in pure example, dispassionate persuasion, and an 
early subjection of the will to what is written in the 
law of God. The enlightening the understanding, 
the purification of the heart, the accomplishing the 
course of rectitude to the invisible world, and qualify- 
ing the soul for beatitude amongst the spirits of the 
just, must be left to Supreme wisdom and mercy. 
The sciences are of very partial concern, are in the 
hands of a few, and are the proper objects of human 
wisdom, and attainable by its powers alone ; but their 
centre and their circumscription is in time. From 
high attainments in these the mind of man is taught 
to wonder, but I much question whether he is often 
taught to adore. They are too apt to raise the mind, 
to engage a devoted idolatrous attention, and fix a su- 
percilious disregard to the humble appearance of a 
meek and quiet spirit ; and if it were possible that they 
should accompany the soul from time to eternity, they 
would prove a subject of humiliation before -an eye 
that is more extensively opened ; yet these may be 
sanctified by the influence of religion." 

I do not know ivhen Miss Smith read Mr. Locke's 
Essay on Human Understanding, but it gave occasion 
to the following remarks, which are prefaced with a 
modest allusion to her own inferiority to this great 



166 MISS smith's life. 

writer, and were never, I believe, seen by any body 
till after her death. 



" A fly found fault with one of the finest works of man." 

" Locke's ideas on Infinity appear to me to want his- 
usual clearness. Perhaps the fault is in my own un- 
derstanding. I M'ill try to unravel my thoughts on 
the subject, and see on which side the error lies. 

" His manner of representing to himself ivfinity is 
to add together certain known quantities, whether of 
space or duration, as miles, or years, and when tired 
with multiplication, he contemplates a boundless re- 
mainder. This, indeed, serves to bewilder the mind 
in the idea of incomprehensible immensity ; the re- 
mainder which is always left, is a cloud that conceals 
the end ; but so far from convincing us there is «07ze, 
the very idea of a remainder carries with it that of an 
end ; and when we have in thought passed through so 
large a part of space or duration, we must be nearer the 
end than when we set out. I think the cause of Mr. 
Locke's confusion on this subject is his use of the 
word parts. He says that the parts of expansion and 
duration are not separable, even in thought. Then 
why say they have parts ? Surely whatever has parts 
may be divided into those parts, and what is not divisi- 
ble, even in imagination, has no parts. He forgets his 
own excellent definition of time and place, that ' they 
are only ideas of determinate distances, from certain 



Jliss smith's life. 167 

known points, fixed in distinguishable, sensible things, 
and supposed to keep the same distance one from 
another ;' only marks set up for our use while on 
earth, to help us to arrange things in our narrow un- 
derstandings by shewing their relative situations, and 
not really existing in nature. This he forgets, and 
having granted that duration and expansion have parts, 
he applies his minutes and his inches to measure eter- 
nity and infinite space. To prove the fallacy of this 

method, suppose 10,000 diameters of the earth to be 
some part, a 10th or 10 000th part of infinite space ; 
then infinite space is exactly 10 times, or 10,000 times, 
10,000 diameters of the earth, and no more. Infinite 
space has certain bounds, which is a contradiction. 
There is no impropriety in taking a foot-rule to meas- 
ure the ocean, because multiplied a certain number of 
times, it will give the extent of the ocean ; but no 
multiple of what is finite can ever produce infinity ; 
for t'hough number abstractedly be infinite, a series of 
numbers may go on continually increasing, yet no one 
of those numbers can express infinity, each being in 
itself a determined quantity. When in the beginning 
of a series, two are added together, each of those two 
must be circumscribed, consequently the whole cir- 
cumscribed ad ivjinitum.' — On the contrary, ziWzVz/ seems 
much more capable of expressing infinity, though we 
finite beings, incapable at present of comprehending it, 
can form but a vague and inadequate idea. Unity has 
no bounds, nor, as Mr. Locke says, any shadow of va- 
viety of composition ; and to appeal at once to the 



16$ MISS smith's life. 

highest authority, it is the sign that the Great Creator 
has used, as being the most proper to convey an idea 
of Himself to our finite understandings. 

" Succession., without which Mr, Locke says he 
cannot conceive duration, is still a division of it into 
parts. I believe his opinion to be right, that our only 
perception of duration is from the succession of our 
own ideas ; but is our perception of it the cause of its 
existence ? No more than our walking over the ground 
is the cause of its extension. He grants this, when 
he says, that during sleep we have no perception of du- 
ration, but the moment when we fall asleep, and that 
in which we awake, seem to us to have no distance. 
Since then there may be duration without our percep- 
tion of succession, may it not be actually without suc- 
cession ? Where all things are eternal, there can be no 
relation of the end of one to the beginning of another ; 
consequently no time, the measure of a relation which 
does not exist. There is another case in which Mr. 
I^ocke thinks a man would perceive no succession in 
duration ;— -if it were possible for him to keep his 
mind entirely fixed on one idea. Does not this apply 
to the Supreme Being who having always all ideas 
present to his mind, can perceive no succession ? As 
He fills at once all space. He exists at once through all 
eternity. I do not pretend to have discovered this by 
the chain of my own reasoning ; it is suggested to me 
by the name which God gives us of Himself. He 
tells us, not only that He is n>, ouv, the existing ; but 
also that He is nw^, existence^ present, future, and past; 



5IISS smith's life. 169 

in one : which seems to me to mean, not mere- 
ly that He can look forward or backward into a record 
of events, but that there is no succession in his dura- 
tion ; that what we call present, past, and future, are 
always equally present ; that ail is perfect unity ; 
there is no variety or shadow of changing. Many 
passages might be brought from Scripture to confirm 
this opinion, and some, which I think are not intelligi- 
ble without it ; such as, ' a thousand years are with 
Him as one day ;' ' before Abraham was, I am ;' 
* time shall be no longer ;' ' there was no place found ;' 
answer exactly to Locke's definition above, and prove 
that thei'e is no division in eternity or infinite space. 
The dispute about foreknowledge and free-will might 
be settled by viewing the subject in this light. If 
there be no succession in the existence of God, if the 
past and future be equally present. He sees the whole 
course of our lives at once, as clearly as any particular . 
moment which we now call present, without influen- 
cing our actions more at one point of time than at 
another. The infinite divisibility of matter too may 
be denied, on the ground that what admits of division 
or multiplication, cannot be infinite. 

" I have observed another inaccuracy in Mr. Locke, 
as spots are most visible on the whitest substance. 

" He defines knowledge to be ' the perception of tlic 
agreement or disagreement of any of our ideas.' So 
far well : but to be sure that it is real knowledge, he 
says, ' we must be sure those ideas agree with the i-eal- 
■ity of things.' This is also true ; but as we have no 
15 



lYO MISS smith's life. 

perception of things but by means of sensation, and we 
have often, on a closer inspection, discovered that our 
senses have deceived us, how can we know that they 
do not always deceive us ? If we cannot know this, 
we cannot be sure that our ideas agree with the reality 
of things, consequently cannot attain to any real knowl- 
edge during this life. We can only believe testimony 
which upon experience we have reason to think true, 
and can be said absolutely to know nothing but what 
God has been pleased to reveal. If it be asked, how 
we know he has revealed any thing to us ? the answer 
is, we can only believe it ; but on examining the testi- 
mony, we find there is full as good proof that we have 
revelations from God Himself in the Scriptures, as 
that any object of sensation is what it appears to be. 
If therefore we grant our assent to the one, why refuse 
it to the other ? And having once established that we 
have revelations from God Himself in the Scriptures, 
it follows, that what is so revealed must be true ; and 
that from thence we may reap real knowledge. 
Whatever else we call knowledge, it is either mere 
conjecture, or derived through some channel or other 
from revelation. Of this I am the more convinced by 
observing ideas current amongst men, which it seems 
impossible they should originally form. Such is the 
idea of a God, of infinity, and eternity ; for notwith- 
standing the boasted powers of human reason, and the 
light of nature,* — since I find them incapable of dis- 

* " I wish to ask what Mr . Locke means by the light of 
nature, when he has proved that we have no innate ideas ? 



3IISS smith's life. 171 

covering the essence of the most familiar object, or of 
taking the first stefi in any science, — I have great rea- 
son to doubt their power of discovering the being of 
God ; and infinity and eternity never coming within 
their perception, I am persuaded men never could 
form such ideas. Therefore if they were led by the 
contemplation of nature to conjecture there must be 
some cause of all the wonders it presents, they would 
still seek for some cause of that cause, and merely be 
lost in endless speculations. If it be objected, that 
some of the ancient philosophers had the idea of infin- 
ity, and that the existence of a God is believed by 
most nations : I answer, it was not human reason 
made those discoveries ; if it were, why have not all- 
nations equal lights, all having the same guide ? On 
the contrary, I have no doubt that whatever vague 
ideas of Deity are found in any country, might, if we 
knew the exact history of its inhabitants, be traced to 
the original revelation to Adam, to Noah, &c. preserv- 
ed or corrupted by tradition. This has been done in 
a great measure with respect to some of the Indian na- 
tions, by Sir William Jones and others, and it still re- 
mains a fine field for future research. If we examine 
those nations of antiquity which had the most nearly 
adequate ideas of the Deity, we shall find them to be 
those which were favoured v/ith the most frequent 
revelations. The Jews clearly stand foremost in both 
these respects ; and why should they, who were never 
thought superior to the Greeks in abilities, be suppos- 
ed capable of more sublime ideas, unless they received 



172 . MISS smith's life. 

them from revelation ? Why should some of ths 
Greek philosophers come so much nearer the truth 
than others of not inferior capacities, but that, besides 
the vulgar belief of their country, (the corruption of 
original revelation,) they received instruction from 
some of the Jews, or from the study of the Sybilline 
Oracles, and the verses of Orpheus ? If, on the contra- 
ry, we look at those nations furthest removed in time 
and place from the centre of dispersion, as the savages 
of America, Africa, 8cc. those particularly, who, having 
had the least commerce with the rest of the world, 
come nearest to our ideas of nature ; we find that their 
reason, though unwarped by the prejudices of educa- 
tion, far from leading them to superior knowledge, 
and a more intimate acquaintance with God and his 
works than is to be met with in civilized society, has 
left them but one degree above the brutes they asso- 
ciate with. Original revelation, not only of the exist- 
ence of a God, but of all arts and sciences, except 
perhaps those most immediately necessary to exist- 
ence, being in some entirely worn out, in others so 
mutilated and defaced as scarcely to be recognised ; — 
in the midst of this darkness no genius starts up with 
the discovery of abstract truth ; there does not seem 
even to be any progress in improvement ; for the ac- 
counts of some of them at this day agree exactly with 
what was written of them ages ago. If then man were 
originally created in the savage state, how came the 
improvements we observe amongst ourselves, since 
when reduced again to that state, we see him incapable 



MISS smith's life. 175 

of taking the first step towards getting out of it ? I 
think this is the fair way of stating the parallel between 
human reason and divine revelation ; for though all 
knowledge would still come from God, if he made 
man capable of discovering it, it seems to me plain 
that He has not done so ; and therefore we should do 
■well to apply to his word for instruction in the first 
place, as being the only fountain of real knowledge." 



The family had resided five years at Coniston, and 
had enjoyed very good health. Elizabeth was par- 
ticularly fond of the place, and the air seemed to agree 
Avith her better than any other. The beauty of the 
surrounding scenery, her enthusiastic admiration of 
such magnificent and sublime views as that country 
affords, and her taste for drawing, certainly led her to 
trust too much to the strength of her excellent consti- 
tution, and to use more exercise than was good for 
lier ; but it did not appear to disagree with her, and I 
do not know that there was any cause of alarm in re- 
gard to her health till the fatal evening in July 1805, 
which is mentioned by Mrs. Smith in a letter to Dr. 
Randolh, to which I refer the reader.* It was on the 
17tli of October 1805, that Miss Smith arrived at 
Bath in the sad state which that letter describes. 
What / felt at this meeting may be easily imagined. 



* See Appendix. Letter III. 
15* 



172 . MISS smith's hfe» 

them from revelation ? Why should some of ihg 
Greek philosophers come so much nearer the truth 
than others of not inferior capacities, but that, besides 
the vulgar belief of their country, (the corruption of 
original revelation,) they received instruction from 
some of the Jews, or from the study of the Sybilline 
Oracles, and the verses of Orpheus ? If, on the contra- 
ry, we look at those nations furthest removed in time 
and place from the centre of dispersion, as the savages 
of America, Africa, Sec. those particularly, who, having 
had the least commerce with the rest of the world, 
come nearest to our ideas of nature ; we find that their 
reason, though unwarped by the prejudices of educa- 
tion, far from leading them to superior knowledge, 
and a more intimate acquaintance with God and his 
works than is to be met with in civilized society, has 
left them but one degree above the brutes they asso- 
ciate with. Original revelation, not only of the exist- 
ence of a God, but of all arts and sciences, except 
perhaps those most immediately necessary to exist- 
ence, being in some entirely worn out, in others so 
mutilated and defaced as scarcely to be recognised ; — 
in the midst of this darkness no genius starts up with 
the discovery of abstract truth ; there does not seem 
even to be any progress in improvement ; for the ac- 
counts of some of them at this day agree exactly with 
what was written of them ages ago. If then man were 
originallv created in the savage state, how came the 
improvements we observe amongst ourselves, since 
when reduced again to that state, we see him incapable 



MISS smith's life. 173 

of taking the fiist step towards getting out of it ? I 
think this is the fair way of stating the parallel between 
human reason and divine revelation ; for though all 
knowledge would still come from God, if he made 
man capable of discovering it, it seems to me plain 
that He has not done so ; and therefore we should do 
■well to apply to his word for instruction in the first 
place, as being the only fountain of real knowledge." 



The family had resided five years at Coniston, and 
had enjoyed very good health. Elizabeth was par- 
ticularly fond of the place, and the air seemed to agree 
Avith her better than any other. The beauty of the 
surrounding scenery, her enthusiastic admiration of 
such magnificent and sublime views as that country 
affords, and her taste for drawing, certainly led her to 
trust too much to the strength of her excellent consti- 
tution, and to use more exercise than was good for 
her ; but it did not appear to disagree with her, and I 
do not know that there was any cause of alarm in re- 
gard to her health till the fatal evening in July 1805, 
which is mentioned by Mrs. Smith in a letter to Dr. 
Randolh, to which I refer the reader.* It was on the 
17th of October 1805, that Miss Smith arrived at 
Bath in the sad state which that letter describes. 
What / felt at this meeting may be easily imagined. 

* See Appendix. Letter III. 
15* 



174 MISS smith's life. 

During the few days which she spent wilh me, the 
skill of Dr. Gibbes, and the care of the tenderest of 
parents, appeared to be attended with all the benefit 
we could expect. She had lost her voice, as well as 
the use of her limbs ; but she enjoyed society, and ex- 
pressed particular pleasure in meeting Mr. De Luc, 
who spent some hours with us. When she was able 
to be removed to the house of her kind friends Mr. and 
Mrs. Claxton, in Somerset-place, I went to Clifton, 
where a dangerous illness detained me, till my extreme 
anxiety to see Miss Smith before she left Bath, deter- 
mined me to return on the 21st of December. My 
dear friend came to me the next morning, and appear- 
ed so much better in every respect, that I was led to 
cherish hopes which lessened the pain of our approach- 
ing parting. She could then converse with ease and 
pleasure, and walk witliout difficulty ; and the last 
hours which I was ever to enjoy with her in this world, 
were some of the most delightful that I ever spent. 
She anxiously wished to be removed to Sunbury to see 
her amiable sister before her marriage ; and after 
sleeping one night at my house, she set out for that 
place with Mrs. Smith, and I saw her no more. 

A letter written immediately after her removal from 
Bath, to her kind friend Mrs. Claxton, shews how 
much better she was at that time, and that she was able, 
to resume some of her favourite pursuits. 



MISS smith's life. 175 

" TO MRS. CLAXTON. 

" Smibury, Dec. 28, 1805. 
" Dear Madam, 

" Having no excuse of illness for employing an 
amanuensis, I take the pen myself to thank you for all 
your goodness to me, of which I assure you I shall al- 
ways retain a grateful sense. The good efiects of your 
nursing now appear. I was certainly somewhat fa- 
tigued with the journey, and for the first two days after 
I arrived, was but indifferent ; but yesterday and to- 
day I am astonishingly well, have learnt to sleep, and 
cough but little. I have been thus particular in the 
account of myself, because, from the kind interest you 
and Mr. Claxton take in my welfare, 1 know you 
would wish it. 

" I am very busy tracing the situation of Troy, in 
Mr. Cell's book, and am very well satisfied with it. 
Yesterday we took an airing to Hampton-Court and 
Twickenham. The day was delightful, and the air 
seemed to give me new life. 

" Kitty returns her best thanks for all your good 
wishes, and hopes to make her acknowledgments more 
fully in person. You have perhaps heard that she is to 
be married on Wednesday, and go to . 

" With grateful and affectionate respects to Mr. 
Claxton, I remain, dear Madam, 

" Your ever obliged, &c. E. Smith." 



17f6 MISS smith's life. 

For some time after she arrived at Sir John Le- 
ga-Rd's at Sunbury, Elizabeth was able to enjoy the 
agreeable society, which that house affords, to walk 
out a little, and to take constant exercise in a carriage ; 
but these favourable appearances did not continue 
long. I had a letter, in which she hinted at the dan- 
gerous state in which she evidently thought she was ; 
and an extract from one written to her beloved sister 
speaks the same language with regard to her health. 

« March 2Sth. 
" I want you, my Kitty, to be as composed on this 
subject, as I am myself. You must not be frightened 
when you hear I am worse, nor because it is said that 
I am better, suppose that I am to be immediately well ; 
for both mean nothing, and perhaps last but a few 
hours. I have myself a decided opinion of the proba- 
bility of the event, and I see no kindness in feeding you 
with false hopes. I wish you to be prepared for what 
1/oM, though not /, would call the ivorst. I do not mean 
that there are any symptoms to cause iraiTiediate 
alarm, but the constitution seems to be wearing out ; 
that, however, ?nay be restored by the warm air of the 
spring and summer. Assure Mr. Allan of my es- 
teem and regard, and tell him I shall never forget his 
kind attentions to me," &c. 



To her friend Mrs. Wilmot she writes thus : 



MISS smith's mfe. 177 

" Conhton^ July 4, 1806. 

" I am sure, my clear Mrs. Wilmot has not at- 
tributed to unkindness or neglect, any of those imfwsisi- 
ble things, my keeping unanswered a most kind letter 
of her's, from January to July. The case is this. I 
thought you had heard enough of me while my nr.other 
was at Bath. After she came to Sunbury, we were 
always going, and I w-as never well enough, or quiet 
enough, to write to you as I liked ; besides^ I thought 
I should write from Matlock, where I should fancy 
that you were present, and that I was talking to you. 
Often, indeed, did we talk of you, and wish for you 
there ; but there again there was no quiet, and I never 
felt equal to writing or doing any Hhing. In short, I 
have never had a pen in my hand from the time I left 
Sunbury, till now ; and now, if ray father were not 
going to-morrow, I should put off writing, in hopes of 
being more able to say something to you some other 
day. This, however, I can say to-day, or any day ; — 
that though my strength has failed, my memory and 
affections have not ; and that while they remain, you 
•will ever hold your place in the one, and your share in 
the other. I am much concerned at the accounts 

which I hear of you. It is very tedious to suffer so 

long ; but we shall all be better soon. 

" As to myself, of whom I know you will wish to 
hear something, I do very well when the sun shines, 
and the wind is in the south ; I seem then to inhale 
new life at every pore ; but if a northern blast spring 
up, (my original enemy,) I seem to shrink and wither 



178 MISS smith's live. 



like a blighted leaf. To avoid this enemy, I am oblig- 
ed to keep the house, which is not at all favourable to 
a recovery. I have been as ill, I think, since I came 
home, as I have ever been ; but better the few last 
days, which have been fine ones. My mother is all 
kindness and attention to me, and Turtin is the best 
nurse in t!ie world ; but all tliis care will turn to no 
account, unless the summer should happen to be a fine 
one. I am perfectly easy as to the event, and only 
wish I were not so troublesome to others.' You 
would love Louis, if you knew how thoughtful and at- 
tentive he has been to me. He will be a great loss to 
me, and to my mother a still greater ; lor he is her 
constant companion, and a very entertaining one. 
My mother desires me to say every thing that is kind 
for her ; but indeed I have so much to say for myself, 
and am so totally incapable of saying it, that I must 
leave you to fill up the blank with what you know of 
us both, not forgetting that Mrs. Bateman is always 
to have her full share. Your ever affectionate, See." 



From the time that Mrs. Smith left Bath, which 
•was about the end of March, the accounts which I re- 
ceived in all her letters, most strongly painted the an- 
guish which her too tender heart felt, while watching 
the gradual approach of the dreaded event which she 
had from the first considered as inevitable. On the 
9th of July, Capt. Smith and his youngest son Louis 
spent some hours with me in their way to Plymouth? 



MISS smith's life. 179 

and brought me a letter from Elizabeth, of which 
the following is an extract. It is the last that I evei' 
received from that dear h and ! 



" Having determined to send a few lines by my fa- 
ther to my best of friends, before your kind and most 
welcome letter arrived, I am not now disobeying your 
commands by writing, but fulfilling my own previous 
invention. I can never thank you enough for all the 
kind interest you take in me and my health. I wish 
my friends were as composed about it as I am ; for, 
thanks to you and your ever dear and respected mother, 
I have learnt to look on life and death with an equal eye, 
and knowing where my hope is fixed, to receive every 
dispensation of Providence with gratitude, as intended 
for my ultimate good. The only wish I ever form, 
and even that I check, is that my illness might be 
more severe, so it might be shortened ; that I might not 
keep my father and mother so long in suspense with re- 
gard to all their plans, and occasion so much trouble and 
anxiety to iiiy friends. — I should like to say much to 
you on this subject, but I am pressed for time, and as 
you may see, I do not make a very good hand of wri- 
ting. — You enquire how the change of weather af- 
fected me ; As much as you can possibly suppose. 
During the hot weather I really thought I should get 
rid of the cough ; but with the cold, every symptom 
returned as strong as ever. Yesterday and to-day 
have been warm and pleasant. I get into the tent. 



180 MISS smith's life. 

where I now am, and revive. We shall indeed lose a 
great comfort when Louis goes. He has been most 
khidly attentive to me. &;c. &c." 



In my answer to this letter I did not attempt to deceive 
my friend ; I knew her too well to think it necessary 
or right to do so. I wrote as to a Christian on the 
verge of eternity, and whose whole life, as her mother 
justly observes, had been a preparation for death. I 
received her thanks for my letter, in a most kind mes- 
sage conveyed to me by Mrs. Smith, who spoke in 
every letter of increasing illness, — till in one which she 
kindly addressed to my friend Mrs. Davies, she said, 
" this morning the angel spirit fled !" 



At Hawksbead, where she was interred, a small 
Tablet of White Marble is erected to her memory, on 
which are inscribed the following words — 

In Memory of 
ELIZABETH, 

Eldest daughter of GEORGE SMITH, 

of Coniston, Esq. 

She died August 7, 1806, aged 29. 

She possessed great Talents, 

Exalted Virtues 

And humble Pietv, 



APPENDIX. 



16 



LETTERS 

FROM MRS. SMITH TO THE REV. DR. RANDOLPH) 
WRITTEN AFTER THE DEATH OF MISS SMITH. 



LETTER I. 

« Conislon, 1807. 

" A AM gratified, my dear Sir, in complying with your 
wish, because the request proves that the esteem 
"which you professed for my beloved daughter's char- 
acter, is not buried with her in the grave ; and because 
it justifies me to myself for dwelling so much on a 
subject, on which I have a melancholy pleasure in re- 
flecting. I shall repress the feelings and partiality of 
a parent, and merely state a few simple facts, connect- 
ed with the progress of her mind. 

" Elizabeth was born at Burnhall, in the county of 
Durham, in December 1776. At a very early age she 
discovered that love of reading, and that close applica- 
tion to whatever she engaged in, which marked her 
character through life. She was accustomed, when 



184 APPENDIX. 

only three years old, to leave an elder brother and 
younger sister to play and amuse themselves, while 
she eagerly seized on such books as a nursery libraiy 
commonly affords, and made herself mistress of their 
contents. At four years of age she read extremely 
well. What in others is usually the effect of educa- 
tion and habit, seemed born with her ; from a very 
babe the utmost regularity was observable in all her 
actions ; whatever she did was ivell done, and with an 
apparent reflection far beyond her years. I mention 
these minute circumstances, because I know that what- 
ever portrays her character will interest the friend for 
whose perusal I write. 

" In the beginning of 1782, we removed into a dis- 
tant county, at the earnest entreaty of a blind relation ; 
and in the following year, my attendance on him be- 
coming so necessary as daily to engage several hours, 
at his request I was induced to take a young lady, 
whom he wished to serve, in consequence of her family 
having experienced some severe misfortunes. This 
lady was then scarcely sixteen, and I expected merely 
to have found a companion for my children during ray 
absence ; but her abilities exceeded her years, and she 
became their governess during our stay in Suffolk, 
which was about 18 months. On the death of my re- 



APPENDIX. 185> 

lation in 1784, we returned to Burnhall, and remained 
there till June in the following year, when we reinovcd 
to Piercefield. In the course of the preceding winter 
Elizabeth had made an uncommon progress in mu- 
sic. From the time of our quitting Suffolk, till the 
spring of 1786, my children had no instruction ex- 
cept from myself ; but their former governess then 
returned to me, and continued in the family three 
years longer. By her the children were instructed in 
French, and in the little Italian which she herself then- 
understood. I mention these p.^rticulars to prove how 
very little instruction in languages my daughter re- 
ceived, and that the knowledge she afterwards acquired 
of them was the effect of her own unassisted study. 

" It frequently happens that circumstances appa- 
rently trifling determine our character, and sometimes 
even our fate in life. I always thought that Eliza- 
beth was first induced to apply herself to the study of 
the learned languages, by accidentally hearing that the- 
late Mrs. Bowdler acquired some knowledge of He- 
brew and Greek, purposely to read the Holy Scriptures- 
in the original languages. In the summer of 1789-j 
this most excellent woman, with her youngest daugh- 
ter, spent a month at Piercefield , and I have reason to- 

16* 



186 APPENDIX. 

hail it as one of the happiest months of my life. From 
that period to the hour of her death, I had in Mrs, 
BowDLER the steadiest, the most affectionate of 
friends ; a friend, who had at heart not only the tem- 
poral, but the eternal happiness of myself and family ; 
and who, in proportion as summer friends flew off, be- 
came yet more attached to me. ■ " 

" From the above-mentioned visit I date the term of 
study which Elizabeth ever after pursued, and which, 
I firmly believe, the amiable conduct of our guests 
first led her to delight in. Those who knew the late 
Mrs. BowDLEu, could not withhold from her their 
love and reverence. With young persons she had a 
manner peculiar to herself, which never failed to se- 
cure their affections, at the moment she conveyed to 
their minds the most important instructions. The 
Word of God was her chief study and delight, and 
she always endeavoured to make it so to others. The 
uncommon strength of her understanding, and the 
clearness with which she explained the most abstruse 
subjects, ensured her the admiration and respect of all 
\-iho heard her ; and none listened with more attention 
than Elizabeth, on whose young mind every good 
and amiable principle was afterwards strongly im- 
pressed by Mrs. H. Bowdler. My daughter was 



appp:ndix. 187 

then only twelve years old ; but her superior talents 
and turn of mind gained the valuable affection of her 
much older friend, who never lost an opportunity of 
improving the former, and of forming the latter. As 
a proof of the correctness of this assertion, I send you 
a letter written by Mrs. H. Bowdler to my daughter 
on her being confirmed, and which I have reason to 
believe made all the impression my excellent friend 
intended, and was ever afterwards the standard by 
which she formed her character. 

" I am, dear Sir, &c." 



Mrs. H. Bowdler to Miss Smith. 

{^Sent to Dr. Mandolph tvith the preceding Letter."] 

« My dear Friend, Bee. 1791. 

" You are now entering on what appears to me the 
most important period of life, and let me hope that my 
anxiety for your happiness, and the tender affection 
which I feel for you, Avill plead my excuse for troub- 
ling you with a few observations upon it. In child- 
hood, our actions are under the control of others, and 
we are scarcely answerable for them ; but from the 
period when we renew our baptismal vow in Confirma- 



188 ATPENDIX. 

tion, and solemnly dedicate ourselves to the service of 
our Creator and Redeemer by receiving the Holy Eu- 
charist, vi'e must be considered as thinking and acting 
for ourselves ; though still subject to the commands, 
and happy in the advice, of our parents. You have, I 
presume, been sufficiently instructed in all the neces- 
sary articles of faith ; but I know you think deeply on 
all subjects, and if you feel any doubts, or see any dif- 
ficulties, in the Christian Religion, this is the time 
when you should endeavour to satisfy yourself with re- 
gard to them, and perhaps my library might afford 
you that satisfaction, if you would indulge me with 
your confidence, and mention them to me. The nec- 
essary articles of faith appear to me few and simple, 
and rather addressed to the heart than the head. The 
Gospel was preached to the poor and ignorant, as well 
as to the learned ; and the see-d sprung up and bore 
fruit, whenever it fell on good ground. But those who 
have abilities and opportunity, should spare no pains to 
examine the evidences which have convinced some of 
the wisest men that ever lived, of the divine authority 
of the Holy Scriptures, and such an examination is 
particularly necessary in the present times. When 
we are convinced that the Bible is the word of God, 
and the rule of our faith and practice, nothing remains 



AVPENDIX. 



189 



but to listen with reverence and devotion to the divine 
instruction it contains, and to believe, on the authority 
of God, what our weak reason could never have dis- 
covered, nor can fully comprehend. The humble, pi- 
ous, and virtuous mind, wliich willingly accepts the 
gracious promises of the Gospel, and is fully resolved 
to practise the duties it enjoins, will seldom be disturb- 
ed by those objections to its doctrines which have been 
often answered to the satisfaction of the best and wis- 
est men. The Christian religion is so suited to a feel- 
ing heart, that I think we can want no arguments for 
its truth, except those which are drawn from its evi- 
dent tendency to make us virtuous and happy. To 
love the God who created and redeemed us ; to ex- 
press our gratitude for infinite obligations, by the sin- 
cere though imperfect service of a few years ; to cast 
all our care on Him who careth for us ; and, secure in 
his protection, to banish every gloomy apprehension 
which might disturb our peace ; — this surely must ap- 
pear an easy task to those who know and feel the plea- 
sure of even an earthly friendship : but when we add 
to this the certainty that our endeavours to please will 
be not only accepted, but rewarded ; when every .Chris- 
tian can say, ' after a few years, perhaps after a few 
hours, I shall, if it is not my own faultj be happy, per> 



190 APPENDIX. 

fectly happy to all eternity ;' surely, with such encour- 
agements and such hopes, no temptation should have 
power to draw us from our duty. Yet when we look 
into the world, when we see how little influence these 
principles have in society, and how seldom they guard 
the heart against the allurements of pleasure, or sup- 
port it under the pressure of affliction ; it must be ev- 
ident to every thinking mind, that very great and con- 
stant care is necessary to preserve through life those 
good resolutions, which I believe most people form 
when they enter into it. For this purpose allow me to 
recommend constant devotion, A few minutes spent 
every morning and evening in this duty will be the 
best preservative against the temptations to which vi e 
must be exposed ; but in order to make it really use- 
ful, it should be accompanied with self-examination, 
and it should be followed by such an habitual sense of 
the presence of God as may influence our condnct in 
every part of our life. In our gayest as well as in our 
gravest moments ; in our studies, and our pleasures ; 
in the tender intercourse of friendship ; in the sprite- 
ly sallies of a conversation which seems only intended 
for ainusement ; still we should be able to turn our 
thoughts with heartfelt satisfaction to that tender Par- 
ent to whom we owe all our guiltless pleasures. 



APPENDIX. 191 

' Whether ye eat or'drink, or whatever ye do, do all to 
the glory of God.' The business in which we cannot _ 
ask his protection and assistance, cannot be an innocent 
pursuit ; the amusement for which we dare not thank 
Him, cannot be an innocent pleasure. This rule 
strongly impressed on the mind, and applied to every 
circumstance in life, will be a constant guard over vir- 
tue in all situations, and a constant check to every 
thought as well as action which is contrary to our du- 
ty. Such, I think, should be the piety of a true 

Christian, and such piety will undoubtedly afford the 
highest pleasures we are capable of feeling in this 
world, while it guards that virtue which will secure our 
happiness in the next. But to entitle ourselves to this 
intercourse M'ith our God, we must carefully and con- 
stantly attend to the state of our souls, by frequent and 
diligent self-examination. As this appears to me a 
point of great importance at all times, and particularly 
as preparatory to receiving the Holy Sacrament, allow 
me to explain more fully what I took the liberty of 
saying when we conversed on this subject. 

" At our entrance into life, (by which I mean the 
period which follows the total dependence of child- 
hood,) it is necessary to obtain a just idea of our own 
character, and of our particular duties. Nobody is so 



132 APPENDIX. 

perfect as not to have a tendency to some fault. Pride, 
passion, fretfulness, obstinacy, indolence, and many 
other failings, are perhaps born with us, and whoever 
has not discovered one or more of these in his heart, 
certainly does not know himself. Let us then, as the 
first step towards wisdom and virtue, carefully study 
our own character, and determine where our principal 
danger lies ; and remember, as my beloved Sister ob- 
serves, that ' he who has discovered a fault in his char- 
acter, and intreated God's assistance to conquer it, has 
engaged Omnipotence on his side.' 

" The next point to be considered is our particular 
situation, and the duties it requires. It is vain to sup- 
pose we could do better in different circumstances, or 
to think that our imaginary merits will cover our real 
faults ; we are not to choose our own part in life, but 
to act properly that which is assigned to us. What 
are my particular duties ? How can I best serve God ? 
How can I most contribute to the happiness of those 
with whom I am connected ? How can I employ my 
time and my talents to the best advantage ? What are 
the errors into which I am most likely to fall ? Do I 
hurt those whom I am most bound to please, by pride, 
peevishness, or contempt ; or do I make them happy 
by constant kindness, gentleness, and long-suffering ? 



APPENDIX. 193 

These are questions which every human being should 
ask his own heart, and which only his own heart can 
answer. From an examination of this kind, I should 
wish every one who really aims at Christian perfection 
to make out in writing a plan of life suited to his par- 
ticular situation and character, and resolutely deter- 
mine to act up to it. This requires time and reflec- 
tion ; but this once done, our task will be much easier 
afterwards. A few minutes every night should be 
spent in considering how far we have conformed to that 
plan through the day. which I think is most easily dis- 
covered by considering how the day has been spent ; 
for every thing, be it ever so trifling, if it is to be done 
at all, may be done well or ill. — Did I attend to my de- 
votions in the morning ? Have I done good, or con- 
tributed to the happiness of others ; or have I given 
pain to any human being by unkindness ? Have I been 
surprised by those faults, whatever they are, which I 
have most reason to dread ; or have I carefully avoid- 
ed them ? — Such questions constantly asked, and im- 
partially answered, will prevent our acquiring wrong 
habits ; and nothing is unconquerable^ which is not //a- 
bitual. Bishop Andrews says, ' sleep is so like death, 
that I dare not venture on it without prayer ;' and I 

17 



194 APPENDIX. 

think it would be well if we considered it in that light, 
and made our peace with God at the end of every day, 
as if it were the last we should enjoy. I am sure the 
habit of doing this would greatly lessen the horrors of 
that awful period, when we inust make up our ac- 
counts, however painful it may be to us. When habit 
has made this easy, little more will be necessary to 
guard us against that self-deceit which is our most 
dangerous enemy ; but at stated times, as at the begin- 
ning of every year, and when we intend to receive the 
Sacrament, it will be useful to take a general review of 
our past life, and compare it with the plan we had de- 
termined to pursue, in order to see how far we have 
kept the good resolutions we had formed, and in what 
respect it is most necessary to guard our future con- 
duct. 

" Perhaps, my dear young friend, I have said noth- 
ing which your own good sense would not point out 
to you much better than I am capable of doing it, and 
I have taken a liberty for which I can only plead the 
advantage which very moderate talents must gain from 
experience. I have lived longer in the world than 
you, and have felt the ill effects of many errors which 
I hope you will avoid ; but I have also sometimes felt 
the good effects of those principles, and that line of 



APPENDIX. 105 

conduct, which I wish to recommeiicl to you, and in 
which I trust Providence will guide you to eternal 
happiness. &c. Sec." 



LETTER II. 
Mrs. Smith to the Rev. Dr. Randolph. 

" At the age of thirteen, Elizabeth became a sort 
of governess to her younger sisters, for I then part- 
ed with the only one I ever had, and from that time 
the progress she made in acquiring languages, both an- 
cient and modern, was most rapid. — This degree of in- 
formation, so unusual in a woman, occasioned no con- 
fusion in her well-regulated mind. She was a living 
library ; but locked up except to a chosen few. Her 
talents were ' like bales unopened to the sun ;' and 
from a want of communication were not as beneficial 
to others as they might have been ; for her dread of 
being called a learned lady caused such an excess of 
modest reserve as perhaps formed the greatest defect 
in her cliaracter. But I will go back to the period of 
which I was speaking. 



196 APPENDIX. 

" 'When Elizabeth was fifteen years old, we were 
reading Warrington's History of Wales, in which he 
mentions the death of Llewellyn-ap-Gryffydd, as hap 
pening on the banks of the Wye, at a place which he 
calls Buillt, and its having been occasioned by his be- 
ing pierced with a spear, as he attempted to make his 
escape through a grove. We amused ourselves by 
supposing that Llewellyn's death must have happened 
in our grove, where two large stones were erected (as 
we chose to imagine) to commemorate that event ; 
and that the adjoining grounds were from thenceforth 
called Piercefield. This conversation gave rise to a 
poem, of wliich Mrs. H. Bowdler has a copy, with 
other papers on the same subject, for a sight of which 
I refer you to her. 

" When a reverse of fortune drove us from Fierce- 
field, my daughter had just entered her seventeenth 
year, an age at which she might have been supposed 
to have lamented deeply many consequent privations. 
Of the firmness of her mind on that occasion, no one 
can judge better than yourself ; for you had an oppor- 
tunity to observe it, when immediately after the blow was 
struck, you offered, from motives of generous friend- 
ship, to undertake a charge which no pecuniary con- 
siderations could induce you to accept a few months 



APPENDIX. 197 

before. I do not recollect a single instance of a mur- 
mur having escaped her, or the least expression of re- 
gret at what she had lost ; on the contrary, she always 
appeared contented ; and particularly after our fixing 
at Coniston, it seemed as if the place and mode of life 
were such as she preferred, and in which she was 
most happy. 

" I pass over in silence a time in which we had no 
home of our own, and when, from the deranged state 
of our affairs, we were indebted for one to the kindness 
and generosity of a friend ;* nor do I speak of the 
time spent in Ireland, when following the regiment 
with my husband, because the want of a settled abode 
interrupted those studies in which my daughter 
most delighted. Books are not light of carriage, and 
the blow which deprived us of Piercefield, deprived us 
of a library also. But though this period of her life 
afforded little opportunity for improvement in sci- 
ence, the qualities of her heart never appeared in a 
more amiable light. Through all the inconveniences 
which attended our situation while living in barracks, 
the firmness and cheerful resignation of her mind at 
the age of nineteen, made me blush for the tear which 

* Mrs. Morgan, now Mrs. George Smith. 
17* 



198 APPENDIX. 

too frequently trembled in my eye, at the recollection 
of all the comforts we had lost. 

" In October 1 800, we left Ireland, and determined 
on seeking out some retired situation in England ; in 
the hope that by strict ceconomy, and with the blessing 
of cheerful, contented minds, we might yet find some- 
thing like comfort ; which the frequent change of 
quarters with four children, and the then insecure state 
of Ireland, made it impossible to feel, notwithstanding 
the kind and generous attention we invariably received 
from the hospitable inhabitants of that country. — We 
passed the winter in a cottage on the banks of the 
Lake of Ulswater, and continued there till the May 
following, when we removed to our present residence 
at Coniston. This country had many charms for 
Elizabeth. She drew correctly from nature, and 
her enthusiastic admiration of the sublime and beauti- 
ful often carried her beyond the bounds of prudent 
precaution with regard to her health. Frequently in 
the summer she was out during twelve or fourteen 
hours, and in that time walked many miles. When 
she returned at night she was always more cheerful 
than usual ; never said she was fatigued, and seldom 
appeared so. It is astonishing how she found time for 
all she acquired, and all she accomplished. Nothing 



APPENDIX. 199 

w&s neglected ; there was a scrupulous attention to 
all the minuiix of her sex ; for her well-regulated mind, 
far from despising them, considered them as a part of 
that system of perfection at which she aimed ; an aim 
whicli was not the result of vanity, nor to attract the 
applause of the world ; no human being ever sought it 
less, or was more entirely free from conceit of every 
kind. The 'approbation of God and of her own con- 
science were the only rewards she ever sought ; but 
her own words declare this truth much more forcibly 
than I can, in a paper which is now in Mrs. H. Bowd- 
ler's possession. 

'^ Her translation from the Book of Job was finished 
in 1803. During the two last years of her life, she 
was engaged in translating from the German some let- 
ters and papers, written by Mr. and Mrs. Klopstock. 
Amongst her papers I found a letter from Mrs. H. 
BowDLER on this subject, dated Middlehill, near 
Bath, March 1805, in which she says, ' my endeavours 
to obtain a clear account of the new edition of Klop- 
stock's Works have been unsuccessful, but I still hope 
that I shall verv soon know whether it contains any 
thing new, or worth sending to you. In the mean time, 
if you are not tired, let me have every thing written by 
Mrs. Klopstock. We can determine on nothing, till 



200 APPENDIX. 

we gave got all our treasvires.' The rest of this letter 
does not particularly relate to my daughter, but I can- 
not forbear copying it, for a reason that will be obvious 
to tjou. ' Miss Hunt and I wished for a little country 
air, and perfect quiet. We are in a lovely spot ; not 
possessing the sublime beauties of your country, but 
the prettiest, cheerful scene imaginable ; ornamented 
with little neat cottages, fields covered with Iambs, fine 
trees, and the whole beautifully varied with hill and 
dale. To me it has still greater charms, as it is my 
native country, the scene of my early happiness : 

* Whei'e erst my careless childhood stray'd, 
* A stranger yet to pain !' 

My first house is always before my eyes, and my last, 
is so near that I can listen to the bell which tolled for 
those who were most dear to me on earth, and visit the 
humble tomb where I hope to rest with them. Do 
you remember how often, during the last weeks of her 
life, and after her faculties were much weakened by 
illness, my dearest mother used to say to herself, 
' Verily there is a reward for the righteous ?' We 
have placed these words on the stone which covers a 
vault, in which a little space remains for me. God 



APPENDIX. 201 

grant that I may have reason to repeat them in my 
last moments with the faith and hope that animated 

her sweet countenance I Near forty years have 

elapsed since my parents quitted their residence in 
this country, but it is very pleasing to witness the grat- 
itude with wliich they are still remembered. I talk to 
the poor grey-headed peasants, and delight to hear 
them say, ' The Squire and Madam were very good* 
Whatever those may think who have only titles or 
wealth to boast of, the good are remembered longer 
than the great ; and the name which I inherit from 
my father, still conciliates more good-will in this little 
spot than any in the Peerage. Indeed it is so easy to 
be beloved, it costs so little money or trouble, and it 
pays such rich interest, that I wonder more attention 
is not bestowed on it.* 

* Some apology may perhaps be required from the Editor, 
for not omitting the little tribute of filial affection, which Mrs. 
Smith had inserted in a letter written to a friend oi both fam- 
ilies. To those who have equal reason to be proud of their 
parents, the writer of this note ventures to appeal on this occa- 
sion ; and by them she hopes to be forgiven. In her answer 
to this letter, Miss Smith says, " Your inscription on the 
Stone pleases me exceedingly. The words are in every sense 



202 APPENDIX. 

" For the translations from Klopstock, and from the 
Hebrew Bible, as well as for many other writings both 
in verse ahd prose, I refer you to Mrs. H. Bowdler. 
" I am, dear Sir, &c. &c." 



LETTER III. 
Mrs. Smith to the Rev. Dr. Randolph. 

« Dear Sir, 
" In compliance with your request, I will now en- 
deavour to trace the progress of the fatal disease which 
deprived me of my beloved child, to the last closing 
scene. In the summer of the year 1805, Elizabeth 
was seized with a cold, which terrwinated in her death ; 
and I wish the cause was more generally known, as a 
caution to those whose studious turn of mind may lead 
them into the same error. I will give the account as 
she herself related it, a very short time before she di- 
ed, to a faithful and affectionate servant who first came 

appropriate. No one could witness the latter days of that ho- 
ly life, without feeling' a perfect conviction of their trtUh." 



APPENDIX. 203 

into the family when my daughter was only six 
Weeks old. 

' One very hot evening in July, I took a book, and 
walked about two miles from home, where I seated 
myself on a stone beside the Lake. Being much en- 
gaged by a poem I was reading, I did not perceive 
that the sun was gone down, and was succeeded by a 
very heavy dew ; till in a moment I felt struck on the 
chest as if with a sharp knife. I returned home, but 
said nothing of the pain. The next day being also ve- 
ry hot, and every one busy in the hay-field, I tliought 
I would take a rake, and work very hard, to produce 
perspiration, in the hope that it might remove the 
pain, but it did not.' 

" From that time, a bad cough, with occasional loss 
of voice, gave me great apprehension of what might be 
the consequence if the cause were not removed ; but 
no intreaties could prevail on her to take the proper 
remedies, or to refrain from her usual walks. This 
she persisted in, being sometimes better and then a lit- 
tle worse, till the beginning of October. I had long 
been engaged to spend the winter with a most dear 
and interesting friend at Bath, and my three daughters 
had accepted a kind invitation to pass that time at 
Sunbury. Elizabeth had, previous to her illness, of- 



204 APPENDIX. 

fered to accompany me to Bath, in order first to make 
a visit to Mr. and Mrs. Claxton, in the hope that she 
might possibly beguile some of the painful hours, 
which that worthy man constantly, though so patiently, 
endures ; at least she thought that she might afford 
some little comfort to Mrs. Claxton. To these 
friends we were bound, by every tie of gratitude and 
affection, to offer every consolation in our power. 
Their hearts were ever open to our griefs ; their house 
always offered shelter and protection from the various 
evils which assailed us. To my third son they have 
proved themselves, if possible, more than parents. 

" A few days before we were to set out from Conis- 
ton, my daughter became so rapidly worse, that I 
doubted the possibility of her bearing the journey ; at 
the same time I was most anxious to remove her to a 
milder climate, and within reach of medical assistance. 
When we reached Kendal, I insisted on taking the ad- 
vice of a physician, as to the propriety of continuing 
our journey, and I received his directions for proceed- 
ing as fast as she could bear without inconvenience ; 
her pulse, he said, indicated considerable inflammation, 
and a warmer climate would be very desirable. She 
bore travelling much better than I could have expect- 



APPENDIX. 205 

cd, making no complaint, but of pain in her legs, till 
we reached Glocester, when I was astonished to find 
that she had lost all use of them. The next morning 
her voice too was gone ; and in this sad state, unable 
to speak or to stand, she was carried to the house of 
our beloved friend in Park-street. From this deplora- 
ble condition she was soon relieved by the skill and at- 
tention of Dr. GiBBES, and we had sanguine expecta- 
tions of her being restored to health. As soon as she 
had recovered the power of walking, she was removed 
to Somerset-Place ; but instead of a comfort, she be- 
came an additional cause of anxiety to Mr. and Mrs. 
Claxton. Friends less tenderly attentive, or less uni- 
formly attached, would have shrunk from the charge 
of receiving her, instead of pressing the performance 
of her promise. I saw her daily, and had the joy of 
seeing her gradually amend. After continuing six 
weeks in Somerset-Place, she was anxious to see her 
beloved sister before her marriage ; and with Dr. 
GiBBEs's approbation, she accompanied me to Sunbu- 
ry. Her delicate state of health was well known to 
Sir John Legard, but he most kindly urged her re- 
moval to his house, thinking that the society of her 

18 



206 APPENDIX. 

Asters, and the change of air, might be beneficial. In 
this conjecture he was right, and I left her at the end 
of ten days, much better ; although the marriage of 
her sister had greatly agitated her spirits, as occasion- 
ing a separation from the favourite of her heart. 

« I returned to the friend whom I had left ill at 
Bath, and continued to receive the most flattering ac- 
counts of Elizabeth's health, not only from herself, 
but from many who observed the delightful change. 
In one of my letters to her, I asked if she thought she 
should be better in any other place, or if she could 
point out any situation in which she would feel her- 
self more comfortable. In her answer she said, ' I 
tnow no place in which I can be better, or any that I 
should like half so well. The khidness and attention 
of &r J. and Lady Legard cannot be exceeded. I 
am left at perfect liberty to do as I like, and you know 
how pleasant it is to me to listen to the conversation of 
fwo or three very sensible men, without being obliged 
to take any part in it.' — ^On the 6th of March my be- 
loved friend Lady **** expired. A few days before 
that event I had a letter from my daughter, to tell me 
ihat as she had some symptoms of returning inflamma- 



APPENDIX. 2X>7 

lion, she had been bled, but more as a preventive, than 
from any necessity. On the 23d I arrived at Sunbii- 
ry, just as she was going out in a carriage with Lady 
Legard. I had indulged the pleasing expectation of 
seeing her materially better, and was therefore thun- 
derstruck at the first sight of her, for I instantly 
thought I discovered confirmed decline in her counte- 
nance. On my expressing to my friends my surprise, 
they told me she had been greatly better, that the 
change I perceived had only taken place a few days be- 
fore, and might be ascribed to the long continuance of 
a cold east wind. I wrote the next day to Dr. Bail- 
lie, and fixed a time for meeting him in London, 
After seeing her, the Doctor candidly told me it was a 
very bad case ; that he would try a medicine which 
sometimes had proved very beneficial, but owned that 
he had little expectation of its succeeding with her, 
and desired to see her again in ten days, Avhich he ac- 
cordingly did. He then said he would not trouble her 
with more medicine ; and on my intreating him to 
tell me exactly what plan he would wish to be pursu- 
ed, without at all considering my situation ; he repli- 
ed, ' In the month of May, she may go Nvhere she 



208 APPENDIX. 

likes, but early in September you had better go to 
Flushing in Cornwall ; unless she should be very 
much better than I own I expect, and in that case I 
would recommend your going to the Madeiras ; but 
to send you there, with my present opinion of the 
case, would only be aggravating your sorrow, by remov- 
ing you from your country and your friends.' To Clif- 
ton, Elizabeth always expressed a particular dislike, 
saying that she was fsure the want of shade would kill 
her ; and as she shewed a decided preference to Conis- 
ton, it was determined that we should go thither. Sir J. 
Legard would not suffer us to depart till the weather 
became perfectly mild ; indeed I must ever gratefully 
remember his uncommonly friendly attention. Though 
a constant invalid and sufferer himself, scarcely a day 
past without his suggesting something likely to con- 
tribute to my daughter's ease and comfort ; nor was 
Lady Legard less constant in her kind attention. 

" On the 6th of May we quitted the hospitable man- 
sion of our friends at Sunbury, where my daughters 
had passed five months. Matlock water had been re- 
commended by some people, and with Dr. Baillie's 
approbation we determined to make some stay there. 



AI'PENDIX, 209 

At that place Elizabeth saw her father, after an ab- 
sence of many months. The pleasure of meeting 
him, the novelty of the scene, and the remarkable 
fineness of the weather, seemed to give her increased 
strength and spirits ; and the day after our arrival she 
walked so far, that I confessed myself tired ; but this 
apparent amendment was soon over, and she relapsed 
into her former languid state, unable to walk to any 
distance, and only riding a little way, while some one 
walked beside her. We remained at Matlock near 
three weeks, but not perceiving that she gained any 
benefit, we set ofi' for Coniston. Travelling always 
seemed to agree with her, and on the arrival at her fa- 
vourite spot, I again perceived an alteration for the 
better, but it was only for a few days. I had a tent 
pitched as near the house as I could, in which she sat 
the chief part of the day. When the weather permit- 
ted, she went out in an open carriage, and however 
languid she appeared, still the grandeur of the scene- 
ry never failed to call forth her admiration. One day 
when we were sitting in the tent, and talking of thfe 
surrounding beauties, she asked me if that would nof 



18* 



210 APPENDIX. 

be a good situation for a new cottage.* I agreed t?iat 
it would, but added, " I can determine on nothing, till 
I see how the next winter in Cornwall agrees with you. 
Should your health be better there, we shall certainly 
sell this place, and settle in the south." She answered 
with more than usual quickness, ' If I cannot live 
here.) I am sure I can no where else.' This was the 
only thing she ever said to me which implied an ex- 
pectation of approaching death. I understand that 
she wrote to some of her friends on the subject, and I 
find a letter from Mrs. H. Bowdler, which evidently 
alludes to something Elizabeth had written to her 
respecting her illness, for in it she says, ' You have 
long had a worse opinion of your state of health than 
I hope it deserves ; but much attention is and ivill be 
necessary, and I depend on your promise of taking 
care of yourself. I felt little doubt that you were rea- 
dy to leave a world, in which as yet you have not had 
much enjoyment, for one that is much better suited to 
such a mind as yours j but we cannot spare you yet. 
You will, I hope, find much to interest you in life j 

* A House is now built on the beautiful spot, pointed out by 
Miss Smith, and in consequence of this conversation called 
Tent-Lodge. 



APPENDIX. 211 

and though I may not live to see it, you may, some 
time or other, be surrounded with blessings, which 
may make amends for all past sorrows.'* 'In anoth- 
er letter from the same friend, dated July 16, 1806, 
she says, ' When we ask to be relieved from our suf- 
ferings, we ask what our heavenly Father often in 
mercy denies ; but when we ask to be supported un- 
der them, we ask what we shall certainly obtain. May 
you experience this, dear child of my heart, under ev- 
ery trial ; and may those who love you as I do, expe- 
rience it too.' No other part of this letter was pre- 
served, which I the more regret, as I have since learnt 
that it was in answer to one which Elizabeth had 
■written to prepare her friend for the event which soon 
afterwards took place. Her total silence to me, I fear, 
may be ascribed to her perceiving, in spite of all my 
endeavours to conceal it, that I had long been too ap- 
prehensive of her real stale. No one seemed to 
think her so ill as I did. Indeed, the change was 
so gradual, that it was only by a comparison with the 
preceding week, that we were sensible of her having 

* This w.as written at a very early period of Miss Smith's 
illness ; and when all her friends, except her mother, had 
hopes of her recovery. 



212 APPENDIX. 

lost Strength in the last. It was not till the Monday 
before her death that any material alteration appeared, 
and I know you are already informed, by a letter 
which I wrote to our mutual friend, of what passed 
during the last three days of her painful existence. 

" I have now, my dear sir, complied with your re- 
quest, with regard to my beloved daughter. Perhaps 
my desire of fulfilling your wish, may have led me in- 
to a tedious detail of little matters ; and it is more 
than probable that the havoc which time and sorrow 
have made in my mind, may have occasioned my 
omitting some things of more importance. I do not 
attempt to draw any character of this inestimable be- 
ing, because it was well known and xmderstood by 
you ; and the conduct of her whole life speaks much 
more in her praise, than could be expressed even by 
the partial pen of a mother. 

" I am, 8cc. Sec." 



LETTER IV. 

From Mrs. Smith to Mrs. H. Bowdler. 

" August-, 1806. 
" Thank God, I can now with some composure sit 
down to thank my best and dearest friend for all her 



APPENDIX. 215 

kind letters ; but after such a loss, we must have time 
to weep, and time to dry our tears, before we can ei- 
ther receive or bestow comfort. My neighbours 

have been kindly attentive to me, offering to come 
here, and begging me to go to them ; but I have an- 
swered, that home and perfect quiet are all I can en- 
joy at present. God bless dear Mrs. Davies, for the 
kind enquiry of who would comfort me. She knows 
how to admininister comfort, even when she most 
needs it herself This I have experienced from her, 
and ever gratefully shall I feel it. But God has com- 
forted me, and the gratifying conviction that my angel 
is for ever happy, with the consciousness of having to 
the best of my abilities fulfilled my duty towards her, 
are consolations which I would not exchange for this 
world's wealth. 

" I shall have a melancholy pleasure in complying 
with your request, and will begin where my last letter 
ended. Turpin slept in a room only separated from 
my beloved child by a boarded partition, and so close to 
her bed that she could hear her breathe. On Wednes- 
day morning Turpin told me she was much the 
same, though the sweet sufferer herself said she was 
better. I went to her, as usual, the moment I was 
out of bed, and was struck with the change in her 



214 APPENDIX. 

countenance. On feeling her pulse, I was persuaded 
she could not continue long. She told nie she was bet- 
ter, and would get up. She did so, and was cheerful when 
she spoke, though it evidently increased her pain, and 
difficulty of breathing. When she coughed or mov- 
ed, she seemed to be in agony. She took nourishment 
as usual, and on my asking what book I should read to 
her, she mentioned Thomson's Seasons. I read Win- 
ter. She made many observations, and entered en- 
tirely into the subject. About three o'clock, Mrs. 
Dixon called, having come Avith a party to see the 
Lake. Elizabeth said see should like to see her. 
Before she went up stairs, I requested she would feel 
the pulse, which I was persuaded indicated the termi- 
nation of her sufferings before many hours. She en- 
tered into conversation cheerfully. Mrs. Dixon told 
me that she thouglit I was mistaken ; that her pulse 
were not those of a dying person, and she was of opin- 
ion that she might last some time. So much were all 
deceived, who did not watch every turn of her counte- 
nance as I did ! The apothecary came afterwards. 
He thought her in great danger, but could not say 
•whether immediate, or not. At nine she went to bed. 
I resolved to quit her no more, and went to prepare 
for the night. Turpin came to say that Elizabeth 



ATPENDIX. 215 

entreated I would not think of staying in her room ; 
and added, ' she cannot bear you should do it, for she 
says you are yourself unwell, and rest is necessary for 
you.' Think of her sweet attention ! I replied, " on 
that one subject I am resolved ; no power on earth 
shall keep me from her ; so go to bed yourself." 
Accordingly I returned to her room, and at ten gave 
her the usual dose of laudanum. After a little time 
she fell into a dose, and I thought slept till past one. 
She then took some mint-tea. Her breath was very 
bad, and she was uneasy and restless, but never com- 
plained ; and on my wiping the cold sweat off her 
face, and bathing it with camphorated vinega r, which 
I did very often in the course of the night, she thank- 
ed me, smiled, and said, ' tliat is the greatest comfort 
I have.' She slept again for a short time ; and at 
lialf past four asked for some chicken-broth, which she 
took perfectly well. On being told the hour, she 
said, ' how long this night is 1' She continued very 
uneasy, and in half an hour after, on my enquiring if 
I could move the pillow, or do any thing to relieve 
her, she replied, ' there is nothing for it but quiet ;' I 
said no more, but thinking that she was dying, I sat 

on the bed, watching her. At six she said, ' I must 

get uj>, and have some mint-tea ;' I then called for 



216 APPENDIX. ' 

Turpi V, and felt my angel's pulse ; they were flutter- 
ing, and I knew I should soon lose her. She took the 
tea well, Turpin began to put on her clothes, and 
was proceeding to dress her, when she laid her head 
on the faithful creature's shoulder, became convulsed 
in the face, spoke not, looked not, aiid in ten minutes 
expired. 

" It did not appear that she thought her end was 
so very near ; for only two days before, she told Tur- 
pin the chaise was finished, and she should speak to 
me to have it home, for it would be better to go an air- 
ing in it, before we set out on the journey . I did not 
tell her my opinion of her state, because I might be 
mistaken, and I believed tliat her whole life had been 
one state of preparation for the awful change. Every 
paper I have found confirms this gratifying idea. On 
reflection, I have every thing to reconcile me to her 
loss, but my own selfish feelings ; and having witness- 
ed the sufferings of humanity in a beloved child, 

" Though raised above 
" The reach of human pain, above the flight 
" Of human joys ; — yet with a mingled ray 
" Of sadly pleas'd remembrance, must I feel 
" A mother's love, a mother's tender woe !" 



APPENDIX. 217 

" Be easy, my dearest friend on the subject of my 
health ; it is as good as usual, and I wonder myself at 
the state of my mind. I believe the overlooking my 
Elizabeth's papers has administered more comfort 
to me than I could have received from any other 
source ; for every line has strengthened my convic- 
tion that the dear writer of them must be happy. I 
regret her having destroyed many papers lately. 
Those I'emaining are chiefly religious and moral re- 
flections, translations from the Bible, Sec. I wish to 
send them to you, with some little trifle of her proper- 
ty for each of her dearest friends. You will value 
them as having been hers, and excuse the dotage of a 
parent who wishes her friends to remember the treas- 
ure she once possessed. Tell me that you and all 
whom I tenderly love are better. I need not name 
them. I have a thousand things to say to you, but it 
cannot be now. God for ever, bless you, my dearest 
friend ! Thank all those who so kindly feel for me." 



19 



2J8 APPENDIX. 



LETTER V. 



" September 1. 

" Mr. Allan very kindly desires me to set off di- 
rectly for Edinburgh, thinking it necessary I should 
immediately quit a place in which 1 have suffered so 
much ; and I have a very kind letter from Kitty, 
which I have answered by saying that it is my inten- 
tion to be with them on the 26th. I have also a most 
friendly invitation from Mrs. Richardson; two o*' 
three of ray neighbours have kindly made the same 
offer, but at present I like no place but this. I love 
to look at the seat on which my angel sat, at the bed 
on which she lay ; in short nothing consoles me 
but what reminds me of her. It is a sorrow which 
is soothing to my mind, and raises it above the petty 
griefs to which I have too often given way. Nature 
never bestowed on me her talents ; habit never gave 
me the same application ; but my beloved child has 
left me an example which I should glory in following, 
and I pray God that I may be enabled to do so ! 

« I had promised Mr. and Mrs. Green, that the 
first visit I made should be to them, provided they 
would assure me that I should see no one else. Whilst 



APPENDIX. 219 

I was there, Mrs. G. was called out to a lady who was 
gohig on directly, and who had with her Mr. and Mrs. 
George Coxe ; I begged to see her ; but this unex- 
pected meeting overset all my firmness, and she ob- 
served that she had never seen me so cut down before. 
I answered that I had neverbefore lost so much. ' No,' 
said she, ' nor any other human being.' You may im- 
agine how grateful these words were to my heart. 
The dear woman stayed only a few minutes, and is 
gone to Edinburgh, where she will see our beloved 
Kitty. I have blotted my paper, but you will ex- 
cuse it." 



LETTER VI. 

" Sef It ember 8. 

" On the 5th I despatched a little box for you. It 
contains all the papers, a small parcel, &c. You will 
observe in one of the memorandum-books a few words 
respecting the expenditure of the legacy left her by 
your excellent mother, which I am sure will please 
you.* I think I did knoiv your sainted parent ; and 

* ' Account of a legacy left me by that excellent and ever- 
honoured Mrs. BowDLER. May I spend every sixpence as 
she would advise me to do, if she were present '' 



220 APPENDIX. 

doing so, I felt a reverence and affection for her little 
short of yours. When I consider her unvaried afiec- 
tion for me, I fear 1 am tempted lo think better of my- 
self than I ought. 

" Bedford's sudden removal from this country has 
sensibly affected me, because I feel persuaded that I 
must not expect to see him more.* If it please God 
to preserve his life, it will probably be years before he 
returns ; and (like you I do) not look far in this 
world, nor dare I look forward to any pleasing event. 
In five short months I witnessed two sad scenes of 
death, and the impression each made on my mind can 
never be effaced. 

" I can now again attend my own parish church, 
and I cannot tell you how gratifying it is to me ; — I 
seem to meet my beloved Elizabeth every Sunday. 
This idea occasions sensations that I would not ex- 
change for any earthly treasure. They are not such 
as depress my spirits ; quite otherwise. They excite 
in-f hope, increase my piety, and strengthen me to 
meet the trials of the ensuing week. Indeed I feel 
that she is dearer to me every day." 

* The third son of Mrs. Smith, who was then ordered to 
join the Expedition under General Crawfurd. 



APPENDIX. 221 



LETTER VII. 



From Mrs. Green to Mrs. H. Boavdler. 

" Seiitember 9, 1806. 
" Feeling as I know you do for your beloved friend 
at Coniston, I think it will be a comfort to hear from 
one who has had much intimate conversation with her 
since the sad loss she has sustained. It is true that 
to you she has opened her whole heart, and you know 
all that passes there better than I can tell you ; but it 
will interest you to hear of her looks and deportment 
from a friend who has seen her frequently, and who^ 
feels for her most sincerely. Yesterday evening we 
returned from Coniston, after passing two days there. 
Her firmness, her collected mind, exceed any thing I 
have seen, because I trace through it feelings the most 
acute. 

" The instant we heard of what had happened, Mr-. 
Green, impressed by the idea of her receiving the 
blow in a state of solitude, was inclined to go directly, 
but I convinced him that it was better to write first. I 
soon had a few lines which afforded all the satisfaction 
we could expect to receive ; quiet, she said, was a^ 

19* 



322 APPENDIX. 

first absolutely necessary, but it would be a comfort to 
see us when siie could support the meeting. A wor- 
thy Clergyman afforded all necessary assistance, and 
to him she gave directions as to all that was to be 
done. The last solemn ceremony took place early in 
the morning, and was conducted with perfect simplic- 
ity. It was over before we heard of it, otherwise Mr. 
GiiEEN and I should have been tempted, through re- 
spect for the living and the dead, to have attended. 
On Mr. Green's account, however, I believe it was 
better omitted, though he says it would have been a 
satisfaction ; but it might have been too much for his 
nerves, for they were so much affected by his first vis- 
it to Coniston, that it was several days before he re- 
covered. Indeed it was an affecting visit. On that 
day three weeks we had seen your dear girl sitting un- 
der the same tent in a field overlooking the Lake, ac- 
companied by her Father, Mother, and Sister ; now 
we found her place empty, her Mother and Sister 
alpne ! It was not very long before Mrs. Smith had 
the resolution to speak of her. She sought and found 
the highest consolation in dwelling on her virtues, and 
on the proofs she had found in the writings she left he- 
hind, that she was well prepared to quit this world. 
Mrs. Smith afterwards read to us the most kindly 



APPENDIX. 223 

sympathising letter from Thos. Wilkinson that was 
ever written on such an occasion, with some verses to 
the memory of his favourite, so characteristic, and 
coming so truly from the heart, that neither Mr. 
Green nor I could restrain our tears, Mr. Green 
rejoices in having fitted up that shew-box for you, and 
means to do an appropriate moon-light for it." 



LETTER VIII. 

From Mrs. Green to Mrs. H. Bowdler. 

" Mr. Green has been trying to do his promised 
moon-light in a way that may do some justice to his 
regard for you, and to the memory of the interesting 
person to whom it alludes ; but he bids me tell you 
that, when most anxious to do his best, he seldom can 
please himself. He trusts however that you will be in 
some degree gratified by this token of his regard to 
you, and to the memory of one so justly dear to you, 
and so afi'ectionately valued by himself. He applied 
to me for some lines to write on the space he has left 
at the bottom of the frame, and was pleased with my 
suggestion of selecting a couplet from the verses writ- 



224 APPENDIX. 



ten by Thos. Wilkinson. They came pure from 
the heart of one who truly appreciated her character, 
and tenderly lamented her loss." Sec* 



I will here add the letter and poem mentioned by 
Mrs. Green. The author, Thos. Wilkinson, a 
Quaker, is well known, and universally respected in 
the country where he resides ; and Mrs. Smith says 
of him, " He is one of the very few people who really 
knew my daughter, and he felt for her character that 
esteem which the wise and good ever entertain for 
each other." Miss Smith had much pleasure in his 
society and correspondence, and he sometimes attend- 

* With this letter I received a beautiful landscape, with an 
urn sacred to the memory of my beloved friend, which is pla- 
ced with her tr.insparencies. This picture was one of the last 
efforts of Mr. Green's elegant pencil. Tliat ingenious, amia- 
ble, and most excellent man died on the 10th of June, 1807. 
The lines to which Mrs. Green alludes are now indeed pe- 
culiarly appropriate, and they are placed on the picture : 

" Long- shall my care these sweet memorials save ; 
♦• The hand that traced them rests within the grave '" 



APPENDIX. 22- 



ed her and her sisters in their long walks amongst the 



mountains. 



LETTER IX. 

Thomas Wilkinson to Mrs. Smith. 

" My dear Friend, 
<* Will it be an intrusion on the sacredness of thy 
sorrow, thus to address thee ? I have heard of thy 
loss, and can truly say I sympathise therein. I have 
awoke in tears in the nig]it, to meditate on the affec- 
ting event ; and the thoughts of my friend, and precious 
daughter, are frequently my companions by day. Ma- 
ny are now my recollections of dear Elizabeth ; her 
sweet and serious countenance is often so vivid in my 
remembrance, that I sometimes can hardly think I 
shall see her no more. How unsearchable are the 
ways of the Almighty ! He frequently selects the 
wisest and the best for Himself, whilst the " world ly- 
ing in wickedness" seems to want their example and 
reproof, and the virtuous and drooping Christian their 
encouragement and support. Yet we are not to ques- 
tion his ways ; for surely they are in wisdomj though 



226 APPENDIX. 

that wisdom we cannot comprehend. Never let us 
forget, my friend, that this is a state of trial. Afflic- 
tion and trial Avill terminate in the grave, and if we are 
faithful to the last, we shall rise in happiness. I have 
had no particulars of the trying event ; when thou hast 
strength to write, it would he desirable to know how 
thou and Juliet are, and whether thy husband, or 
any branch of the family, were at Coniston during the 
solemn scene ? Thy lot has often been to bear the 
heaviest part of the burthen. I shall devote the rest 
of my paper to a little memorial of its kind to thy valu- 
ed daughter. 

" Farewell ! With true esteem and affection, I re- 
main thy sincere and sympathising friend, 

" T. W." 

LIJVES IJ\rCLOSED. 

" HOW dark this river murmuring- on its way ; 
This wood how solemn, at the close of day ! 
What clouds come on, what shades of evening- fall. 
Till one vast veil of sadness covers all : — 
Then why alone thus ling-ering do I roam. 
Heedless of clouds, of darkness, and of home I — 
Well may I linger in this twilig-ht gloom 
Alone, and sad— Eliza's in her tomb-' 



APPENDIX. 227 

She who so late, by kindred taste ally'd. 
Paced this lone path, coversing at my side ; 
The wildering path 'twas her delight to prove. 
Through the green valley, or the cooling grove. 

" Can I forget, on many a summer's day. 
How through the woods and lanes we wont to stray ; 
How cross the moors and up the hills to wind. 
And leave th e fields and sinking vales behind : 
How arduous o'er the mountain steeps to go. 
And look by turns on all the plains below ; 
How scal'd th' aerial cliffs th' advent'rous maid. 
Whilst, far beneath, her foil'd companion staid ? 

" Yet whilst to her sublimest scenes arise. 
Of mountains pil'don mountains to the skies. 
The intellectual world still claim'd her care, — 
There she would range, amid the wise and fair, 
Untutor'd range ; — her penetrating mind 
Left the dull track of school research behind ; 
Rush'd on, and seiz'd the funds of Eastern lore, 
Aral)ia, Persia, adding to her store. 

" Yet unobtrusive, serious, and meek. 
The first to listen, and the last to speak ; 
Tliough rich in intellect, her powers of thought 
In youth's prime season no distinction souglit ; 
But ever prompt at duty's sacred call. 
She oft in silence left the social hall. 



228 APPENDIX. 

To trace the cots and villages around. 
No cot too mean, where misery might be found : 
How have I seen her at the humblest shed. 
Bearing refreshment to the sick man's bed ; 
His drooping spirits cheer'd — she from his door 
Return'd, amid the blessings of the poor ! 

" Oh, lost Eliza ! dear, ingenuous maid. 
While low in eai-th thy cold remains are laid. 
Thy genuine friendship, thy attentions kind, 
Rise like a vision on my pensive mind ; 
Thy love of truth, thy readiness to please. 
Thy sweet, refin'd simplicity and ease, 
Enhanc'd the favours of ingenious art. 
And made thy gifts pass onward to the heart : 
These beauteous tints,* these peaceful scenes I view, 
Tliy taste design'd, and ready friendship drew ; 
Long shall my care the sweet memorials save — 
The hand that trac'd them rests within the grave ! 

" Lamented Maiden ! pensive and alone. 
While sorrowing friendship pours her tender moan. 
Sad memory sees thee, at our parting hour. 
Pale, weak, yet lovely as a drooping flower 
Which sheds its leaves on autumn's sickly bed ; — 
Thou from thy pillow rais'd thy peaceful head ; 

* " Her drawings in a rustic building beside the river Emont," 



APPENDIX. 229 

To me thou held'st thy feeble hand — it bore 

Naambannaf dying on his native shore ; 

Like his, ReUgion's holy truths, address'd 

To thy young mind, were treasur'd in thy breast ; 

Like his, we saw thy early blossoms wave ; 

Now see the Virtues weeping o'er thy grave !'* 



The last manuscript with which I was favoured by 
Dr. MuMssEN arrived too late ; and when I wrote to 
thank him for it, I mentioned the irreparable loss I 
had sustained, and spoke of my lamented friend in the 
following words ; which drew from him an answer 
so gratifying to my feelings, that I hope I may be par- 
doned for inserting it. My letter contains a very im- 
perfect sketch of Miss Smith's charactei^, but.it is 
drawn with truth. 



t An affecting account of the pious African, Henry Granville Naambanna, 
which she gave the author, as he took his last leave of her a short time be- 
fore her death. 



20 



230 APPENDIX. 



LETTER X. 



Extract from a Letter from Mrs.H.Bowdler 
TO Dr. Mumssek. 

■" Sefitember 1806. 

" The lovely young creature on whose account I 
first applied to you, had been for above a year gradual- 
ly declming, and on the 7th of August she resigned 
her pure spirit to God who gave it. Her character 
was so extraordinary, and she was so very dear to me? 
that I hope you will forgive my dwelling a little longer 
on my irreparable loss. Her person and manners 
were extremely pleasing, with a pensive softness of 
countenance that indicated deep reflection ; but her 
extreme timidity concealed the most extraordinary tal- 
ents that ever fell under my observation. With 
scarcely any assistance, she taught herself the French, 
Italian, Spanish, German, Latin, Greek, and Hebrew 
languages. She had no inconsiderable knowledge of 
Arabic and Persic. She was well acquainted with Ge- 
ometry, Algebra, and other branches of the Mathe- 
matics. She was a very fine musician. She drew 



ArPENDlX. 23i 

landscapes from nature extremely well, and was a mis- 
tress of perspective. She shewed an early taste for 
poetry, of which some specimens remain ; but I be- 
lieve she destroyed most of the effusions of her youth- 
ful muse, when an acquaintance with your great poet, 
and still more when the sublime compositions of the 
Hebrew bards, gave a different turn to her thoughts. 
With all these acquirements she was perfectly femi- 
nine in her disposition ; elegant, modest, gentle, and 
affectionate ; nothing was neglected, which a woman 
ought to know ; no duty Avas omitted, which her situa- 
tion in life required her to perform. But the part of 
her character on which I dwell with the greatest satis- 
faction, is that exalted piety, which seemed always to 
raise her above this world, and taught her, at sixteen 
years of age, to resign its riches and its pleasures al- 
most without regret, and to support with dignity a very 

unexpected change of situation. For some years 

before her death the Holy Scripture was her principal 
study, and she translated from the Hebrew the whole 
book of Job, Sec. Sec. How far she succeeded in this 
attempt I am not qualified to judge ; but the benefit 
which she herself derived from these studies must be 
evident to those Who witnessed the patience and resig- 
nation with which she supported a long and painful ill- 



232 APPENDIX. 

ness, the sweet attention which she always shewed to 
the feelings of her parents and friends, and the heaven- 
ly composure with which she looked forward to the 
awful change which has now i^emoved her to a world, 
' where (as one of her friends observes) her gentle, 
pure, and enlightened spirit will find itself more at 
home than in this land of shadows." &:c. &c. 



LETTER XI. 

Dr. MUMSSEN IN REPLY. 

« Mtona, Oct. 3, 1806. 
" Let me very heartily sympathise with you, dear 
Madam, in your sorrow. The loss you have suffered 
is great, is irrecoverable in this world. The account 
you gave me of the extraordinary character of your late 
angelic friend, has filled my breast with admiration 
and awe. I have read your letter with tears. So ma- 
ny accomplishments, natural and moral ; so much of 
science, erudition, and eminence of rare talents, com- 
bined with grace, with gentleness, and all the virtues 
that adorn a female mind ! It is wonderful, and can- 
not be enough admired. Great, indeed, must have 



APPENnix, 233 

been your happiness in the possession of this treasure. 

. Alas ! the gentle spirit that moved her tender 

limbs is soon divested of its mortal garment, and gone 
to join its kindred Angels ! 

• Vattene in pace. Alma beata e bella !' 

But I think her happy in this our period ; for what 
can be more fortunate on earth than to fall into the 
hands of the virtuous, and free from contact of a cor- 
rupted race, to make her passage over our unlucky 
planet pure and immaculate, and with the robe of inno- 
cence appear before her Creator ? To taste all the 
sweets of science and art, and having satisfied all hon- 
est desires, remove from the feast of life Avith gratitude. 
'Tis a consummation devoutly to be wished !' 

" Your being deprived of such a hand, I fear, will 
put a stop to your honourable project ; yet I will hope 
that somebody Avill be found to assist you in reducing 
and sifting the materials you have collected. 

•' Pray tell me the name of your late young friend", 
that I may honour her memory. Such radiant flames 
seldom descend to inhabit terrestrial forms. 

" With true esteem and affection, I am, &c. 



20^ 



i 



234 APPENDIX. 

LETTER XII. 

FnoM THE Rev. Dr. Randolph to Mrs. Smith. 

" I HAVE to thank you, my dear Mrs. Smith, for 
your very interesting manuscript. To those who 
once shared the friendship of your excellent daughter, 
the most trifling incidents of her life are now become 
valuable records ; and scenes of childhood, when con- 
nected with the expansive powers of genius, cease to 
be insignificant ; as the smallest rill assumes an im- 
portance from being contemplated as the source of a 
great and majestic ,river. Let me however confess, 
that without a more powerful motive for my request, 
than the one you so justly assign to me, I should have 
spared you the sad remembrance of the days of infan- 
tine occupations ; and judging of the culture by the 
produce, have given due credit to your system of edu- 
cation, nor felt any inclination to pry further into the 
secrets of a mother's care. 

" But the plant you had the happiness to rear in the 
moral garden of life, (though, alas ! of short duration,) 
exhibited such a luxuriant fertility, and a vigour of 



APPENDIX. 235 

shoot so far exceeding the ordhiary growth of intel- 
lect, that it seems a duty you owe to society to ipark 
the several points and stages of its advancement to 
such early maturity. 

« I see you start at the proposal I am about to 
make ; but the papers now before me not only serve 
to increase my admiration of your beloved child, but 
convince me, the more I read them, that she that is 
gone ought to live in universal remembrance ; that 
over such a grave grief should not be dumb : and that 
the world, deprived by her death of one of its brighest 
ornaments, has a claim to every memorial of her exalt- 
ed worth and talents, to shew the unthinking crowd 
what may be done, and to hold forth an example of 
what has been done even in so short a space of time, by 
fulfilling the duties of a Christian life, and the purposes 
of rational existence. 

" You know that I am no advocate, generally speak- 
ing, for biographical sketches and memoirs. The van- 
ity of some of these communications might well be 
spared, and the profligacy of others ought not to be 
endured. But if the reflecting reader, tired or disgust- 
ed with a mere series of adventures, should prefer a 
narrative that led the mind to thought, to one that on- 
ly filled it with wonder or amusement ; if he had rath- 



236 APPENDIX. 

er follow Cow PER to his study, than a General to the 
field, or a statesman to the cabinet ; to such a class of 
readers, I scruple not to say, you have it in your power 
to offer a most cajmvating publication. Every page I 
unfold fills me with fresh astonishment, and when I 
collect the evidence of your daughter's attainments 
within the short period of her earthly existence, when 
I combine the graces of person, and the elegance of 
accomplishments, with her more noble and higher dis- 
tinctions of intellect, I seem to lose sight of what once 
adorned society, and- to be tracing a form of ideal per- 
fection . 

" Over every thing she touches she seems to spread 
a new charm ; and whether she furnishes materials 
from her own capacious mind, or draws them from 
the stores of others, there is a choice and arrange- 
ment, which evinces the soundest judgment, as well as 
the sweetest imagination. Her feelings are exquisite, 
but never romantic ; and in the flight of her most ex- 
cursive fancy, she keeps within the bounds of truth 
and taste. In all that she invents or describes, nothing 
is overcharged or unnatural. Her pen, like her pen- 
cil, places every object in the most pleasing point of 
view ; and the delicacy of her thoughts is even height- 
ened by the purity, I may say piety, of the expressions 



APPENDIX. 237 

in which they are conveyed. In her various transla- 
tions from the German, and other languages, most of 
which I liave compared with the different author s, she 
never mistakes or weakens the spirit of the original. 
Klopstock, under her management^ talks English as 
well as his native tongue ; and the warmest of his ad- 
mirers would rejoice to hear the facility and precision 
with which she has taught their favourite poet and phi- 
losopher to converse amongst us, Of her Hebrew 

versions, of which I would not allow myself to be a 
competent judge, I can now speak in the strongest 
terms of praise, from the testimony of some of our 
best Hebrew scholars, to whom the Book of Job has 
been more particularly submitted. Tlie opinion of 
this extraordinary production, transmitted to me by a 
friend who ranks among the first in this department of 
literature, I here subjoin. 

' My dear Sir, 
< I HAVE exceeded the time I had prescribed to my- 
self for sending you my report of the MS. of Job ; 
but I was desirous to form the best judgment I was 
capable ofj before I ventured on a final opinion. I 
have now, however, most fully satisfied my mind upon 
the subject ; and I feel that I should do great injustice 



233 APPENDIX. 

to the work, if I did not pronounce it to be an excellent 
translation. After a close scrutiny, and a careful com- 
parison with the original, it strikes me as conveying 
more of the true character and meaning of the He- 
brew, with fewer departures from the idiom of the 
English, than any other translation whatever that we 
possess. It combines accuracy of version with purity 
of style, and unites critical research with familiar ex- 
position. From the received translation it very seldom 
unnecessarily deviates, which I consider to be a proof of 
the author's taste and judgment ; for, in general, the 
language of our English Bible is such as no one pos- 
sessing these would wish to alter. The correction of 
error, and the improvement of the sense, seem to be 
the only inducements, and serve as the chief guides in 
every variation of phrase adopted in the version of 
your friend. These variations are undoubtedly some- 
times considerable, but always ingenious, and general- 
ly well-founded, and never hazarded but with reasona- 
ble colour, and manifestly after much investigation. 
New readings and new significations are occasionally 
introduced ; and from the appearance of some of these 
at the commencement of the work, I had at first been 



APPENDIX. 135 

led to entertain doubts as to the merit of the transla- 
tion ; but upon further acquaintance, and a fuller re- 
view, I find them much less frequent and less vio lent 
than (I_am sorry to say) are to be met with in most of 
our modern versions of the various parts of the Old 
Testament. Conjectural emendations of the text par- 
ticularly are most sparingly indulged in ; so that, upon 
the whole, I cannot bvit recommend the publication of 
the entire version ; in the fullest confidence that it will 
be received as a valuable present by the lovers of bibli- 
cal literature.'* 

" Upon such proofs, I may venture to rest my jus- 
tification> if any be necessary, for earnestly requesting 
your permission to draw from the journal of her im- 
provement a simple narrative of your daughter's life. 
Many of the documents must necessarily be omitted, 
but enough may be given to confirm our estimate of 
her worth, and prove to the world that it has not been 
raised beyond its due standard by the partiality of her 
sorrowful and surviving friends. If the dear com- 



* Letter from the Rev. Dr. Magee, of Trinity collegCj 
Dublin, author of Discourses on the Doctrine of the Atone- 
ment. 



240 APPENDIX. 

panion of some of her early studies might be prevailed 
on to undertake the arrangement of the materials, (and 
I think our solicitations to her for that purpose may 
not be in vain,) your mind will be better reconciled to 
the measure, and the world will be satisfied as to the 

fidelity of the detail. Let us, I beseech you, unite 

fo accomplish this ; and believe me, &c." 



KND OF VOL. 1. 



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